The only story in the universe
by auroraboredalis
Summary: I'm gonna tell you a story. The oldest story in the universe. The only story in the universe, and the shortest, too. Three words. With three simple words I can sum up every story you'll ever hear. Does that sound scary to you?
1. The only story in the universe

I'm gonna tell you a story.

The oldest story in the universe. The only story in the universe, really.

Oh, and the shortest, too.

Three words.

With three simple words I can sum up every story you'll ever hear, every song and book and movie, every single one.

Do you believe me?


	2. the three words

Right, yeah. You probably want to know the three words.

It. Gets. Better.

Think about it. Have you ever heard a story that didn't end to a victory of some sort? Maybe not a marriage and a happy ever after with some magic on the side, but just a slightly better something? You know, like fixing a friendship or falling in love or working on some personal problems, or, like, saving the world from some fucknugget aliens or something.

But hey. I believe I owe you a story.

Hold on to your hats and antlers, because this is the only story in the universe.

Like most of the stories human beings tend to tell, it begins with a person.

I am Jupiter. Well, okay. That's not my real name, obviously, but everyone still calls me that. Well, actually everyone just calls me J, 'cause Jupiter isn't very handy. But anyways, people tend to mishear my last name, Juniper, and long story short, I am now the weird girl named after a giant gas ball floating in deep space. I'm not complaining, though, given one of my friends was called Goat Cheese for about ten years -for no apparent reason.

Right, on with the story.

Stargazing. One of my favourite hobbies. A complete waste of time, of course, but a brilliant way to waste your time, if you ask me.

So, I spend a lot of time sitting on the balcony, staring at the night sky and trying to come up with theories explaining where the hell is everybody. Everybody, as in all of the aliens whose hypothetical existence I choose to believe in. Mostly 'cause it makes sense to me, you know, just in terms of pure probability, and because it's a really comforting thought. To think that there is something better out there, a society that hasn't fucked up as badly as human beings have. 'Cause, honestly; when all or this is ash and dust and our solar system is long gone, do you really think that's it? That the whole universe just falls silent, that there will be no more living, breathing, thinking creatures, anywhere? That every planet and every star, every peck of dust and every single asteroid will just keep falling through space in silence, without anything ever developing out of it? Without anyone ever being able to see the stars again?

Because, you know. That sounds kind of lonely.

A train went by and the wind picked up, creating a very Tardis-like noise, and I smiled a bit to myself.

Every time.

Every time that happens -a train goes by or the wind blows just a bit too hard- for a second I think that maybe, just maybe it's him.

I know it's not.

It never is.

Yes, I know. I know that if anyone knew I'm hoping that he'd run into me while running around the universe, they'd think I'm crazy.

I can't really blame them.

Hell, even _I _think I'm crazy.

Thinking that a thousand years old two-hearted fictional alien might randomly emerge into my backyard in the middle of the night doesn't really seem like the most probable thing, now does it?

But honestly, when everything goes wrong and life gets you down, who wouldn't want to get away.

Isn't that what he's all about?

Hope?


	3. Reality

**AN: hey guys I'm sorry but this is just another pointless filler backstory chapter and the doctor doesn't happen yet**

**I mean he kind of does**

**but only in like the last five sentences or something so**

**I'm sorry feel free to skip wherever you want to go man **

**okay bye **

My phone buzzed, and I furrowed my eyebrows a bit. Given the fact it was about 3 am, I wasn't exactly expecting a phone call.

Well, to be honest I'm never expecting phone calls; hate them. Absolutely hate them.

I answered, seeing it was Scar. A short, athletic girl with a pixie cut and a secret tattoo. Full name Scarlett, hobbies; kickboxing, motorcycles, and generally being a rebel. Get the picture?

I was quite shocked when I heard her crying. She was the "I just got something in my eye" -type, not the "3 am sobbing on the phone"-type.

"What's wrong?" I asked as my senses sharpened.

"My life." She answered with a shaking tiny voice that I hardly recognized.

She's also fifteen years old, publicly bullied and from an abusive family that openly loathed her.

I took a breath.

"Look, can I... can I come over? I just..." she muttered.

"Of course." I answered. It was probably just a rhetorical question anyways, to make sure I wouldn't attack her if she just happened to emerge to my house in the middle of the night. (Yes, that had happened. Multiple times.)

Anyways. Did I mention that I absolutely suck at comforting people?

I can't help it. I automatically analyze everything, organize every thought to a logical order and choose plain facts and logic over feelings.

Seriously, if I had to categorize my emotional capacity I would file it quite close to that of Spock. No, not even Spock, like, I'd file it next to the most Vulcan Vulcan there is.

But I guess right now that's good enough for her.

In a few minutes she was leaning to the wall next to me, wrapped up in a blanket and holding a large cup of tea.

I took a breath.

"I'm not going to pretend I have any idea of what you're going trough." I started. "And I'm certainly not going to lie to you. I'm not going to tell you that it gets better, because sometimes it doesn't. I'm sorry, but that's just the picture we like to paint. So in case you still believe in a world where justice and order run the world, I'm sorry. Because in the end, the universe doesn't care. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and there's nothing we can do about that." I took a breath.

"I'm sorry, but there is no mystical power that makes the world work. No karma that makes the heroes survive, no universal justice, no starfleet, nothing. Just the balance of probability. Sometimes life sucks and there's nothing you can do about it. Because the universe doesn't care about right or wrong, and that's not up to you."

I looked up with a faint smile.

"Yet there's always that little gut feeling, you know. And at the end of the day, there's always that irrational, unexplainable little spark of hope. The small voice in the back of our heads, telling us that maybe it's gonna be okay. Maybe everything will be better and maybe, just maybe we'll be fine.

And the thing is, that little spark of hope might be blind.

It might be false.

But it still exists.

And as long as we still have hope, we have everything. So I can't tell you that it's gonna be okay, I can't promise that. I can't tell you that some mystical power will make everything better.

But I can tell you that as long as you are still holding onto hope, you're gonna be alright.

You're gonna stand up, you're gonna try again, and some day you're not gonna fall apart any more. And it's not because of some magical force in the universe.

It's because of you.

So don't give up just yet.

Because what I can tell you, is this.

There is, surprisingly, always hope."

she yawned, and I looked at her, trying to figure out her thoughts.

She looked...well, she looked sad and tired and angry and puzzled, but she also looked a bit relieved. Grateful. Because she knew most of the stuff I had gone trough, and she knew I had meant every word. She smiled weakly.

My eyes shot wide open as I heard a metallic clank from the yard. _What? _

I stared into the darkness, and the wind carried a faint whirring sound. _No. Way. _I blinked. Darkness, all I saw was darkness. _But...no fucking way. _I felt my heart pounding in my ears. _No. No way, no fucking way. No. I am insane, this isn't...that can't...he can't!_

My brains were going hyper, yelling **WHAT **and trying to figure out a reasonable explanation for the sound I couldn't logically categorize.

Because I _knew _that this time the train _did_ go by. And only the quiet, metallic whirring of the time machine remained.

All this had taken for about four seconds, she hadn't noticed a thing, and I blinked.

Silence. Silence and darkness.


	4. The tall, dark stranger

I didn't get that sound out of my mind. That quiet, swift whirring that I wanted to explain to myself in a form of logic I understood.  
>I don't really want to lead myself on, by thinking that maybe this isn't all there is, but.<p>

If that metallic whirring was in fact caused by a certain time machine, that would mean that maybe I was right all along. That maybe I'm not as insane as they say I am, and maybe, just maybe there's something better out there. Something better than the best of humanity.

Scar had eventually crawled back home, and I decided to go and hang out in the local coffee shop run by one of my friends, Jenny.

**-here's some pointless background info again feel free to skip-**

I walked in to the small, practically empty room and sat to a comfy chair in a dark corner, pulling my feet up. The only source of light were the countless Christmas lights and mechanical candles, and the faint smell of cinnamon and mint floated in the air. In a few seconds my friend with dark brown curls, bubbling personality and eyes that I couldn't really categorize into any actual colour hopped to me.

Jenny. She was...she was a happy person. She was social and full of life, she had a cute little apron and she liked puppies and flowers and baking birthday cakes with loads of pink frosting.

She was kind and loving and probably the most positive person I have ever met.

Her only weakness was that she wanted to see the good in people. She wanted to overlook the bad things, she wanted to make the world work. She was overly positive to the point where she wanted to see the good in even the worst people.

Okay, so maybe that isn't exactly a weakness. But it's messing up her sense of reality.  
>That's why she stayed with Michael, her fucknugget of a boyfriend. Even after he had cheated on her, over and over and over again. Opposites attract, right?<br>I had tried to explain to her that she was attracted to him because of the chemicals in her brain and that it wasn't real, not really, that she only wanted to be with him because the part of her brain that normally judged someone's personality was temporarily blind, that it wouldn't work out, that he wasn't a good guy, but, well, Jenny's Jenny and that hadn't ended well.

_"He's not really like that" she'd said._

_"He's actually really nice" she'd said._

_"You're one to talk" she'd said, with tears in her eyes. She hated arguing. She hated hurting people._

_I had tried to answer but the words got stuck in my throat. I'm worried about you, I wanted to say. I'm just trying to protect you.  
><em>

_But I could see it in her eyes. She was about to break down, and I couldn't take that. She got really violent panic attacks every now and then, and I had promised myself I'd do everything I could to prevent them. So I was not going to cause one myself._

_"I'm sorry." I had said, quietly, looking her in the eyes."I'm probably wrong about him." I tried with a small smile. "you know I'm a pessimistic little shit."_  
><em>This had earned a small chuckle from behind her tears, and her breathing had started to settle down.<em>

**-okay and on with the actual stuff-**

My senses sharpened when I heard a chair creech against the floor somewhere not-so-far-away. I looked up, automatically scanning the room to locate the source of the voice.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

I saw a pair of disturbingly green eyes stare right at me with no apparent reason. I raised a brow slightly, observing the person around the eyes - he was standing across the room.

He was dressed quite formally, he had a suit but with the sleeves rolled up and the tie kind of loosened. Tall, lots of freckles and reddish-brown hair, and dark circles around the eyes.

Sure, he looked like he just crawled out of a dumpster after a week of non-stop partying, but something in his appearance made him look like he wasn't...ordinary. Something I couldn't pin-point. He was...wrong.

No, not quite wrong. But not quite right either.

He looked puzzled and lost, but not quite in a way a person looks when they're geographically lost.

I blinked.

He blinked, still staring at me.

_Wait, what? Why is he staring at me?_

In a few seconds I broke the eye contact and took a sip of the coffee that Jenny had brought me. _Whoever this guy was, he was definitely out of the ordinary, and that was enough to get my attention. Well, don't get me wrong, I mean everyone's out of the ordinary when you dig deep enough, but for some reason this...guy, he didn't even try to conceal it. I mean when you think about it, no-one is, at the end of the day, normal or ordinary. Some people are simply more keen on hiding the fact that they're weird. People just sense how other people expect them to act, and this leads to a certain type of behavior becoming popular. That's where our description of 'normal' comes from. And since humans have an instinct to eliminate everything above average due to natural selection_ -

Jenny snapped her fingers in front of me.

"Earth here, hey?" she said with a voice that indicated that she had repeated that a couple of times before I had reacted.  
>"You're impossible. " She sighed.<p>

She sat next to me with a smirk that basically screamed 'I have an idea and this won't end well'.  
>I raised a brow, waiting for her to start hyperventilating about something.<br>"So?" I started. "Shoot."  
>She kept on smirking and looked around a bit like she had a secret that was...well, secret.<p>

_Oh god if you are pregnant to that god-forsaken idiot I swear I will fucking skin him-_

"So..." She muttered."That guy on the corner." Her smirk widened.

I raised a brow. "Yeah? A person has just entered your coffee shop and ordered a cappuchino. Exiting._"  
><em>she rolled her eyes to my sarcastic comment._  
>"<em>He's...interesting." she noted.  
>"In case you want a wingman I volunteer. Though I might be the worst choice you could possibly make." I noted, and she glared at me evilly. She knew how I felt about Michael.<br>"Look at him." She ordered. I looked at her for a moment, raised a brow as in 'why', but turned my eyes to his general direction anyways.

"He's been staring at you for about 90% of the time he's been in here." She noted proudly, as if it was special.  
>"I'm in his perception field, Jenny. It's a straight view from there to here. If he hadn't been looking at my general direction it would've blocked out his view of the situation, and humans usually have this self defense thing going on that makes them want to see what's currently happening around them-" I answered quietly, still looking at him.<p>

He looked up from the magazine, and I turned to Jenny.

She was looking at me with a face that said 'Oh for fuck's sake can't you even pretend to be normal every once in a decade'.  
>"He's been looking at you because he's interested in you."<br>"My explanation was better," I noted back. "Plus, why would he be interested in me?" I continued, rhetorically.

"I'm not gonna have this conversation again" she said, trying to sound warning, but I just smiled at her.  
>"Good. Can we have the conversation where I convince you to break up with your boyfriend and you go hit on the good-looking stranger in the corner?" I smiled at her fed-up face.<p>

**-And as an added bonus here's a relatively pointless flashback for more background information in case any of you care-**

You want to know how we met? Me and Jenny, that is. Michael I met in a bar and I punched him in the face, long story. But Jenny? Well. I had just moved here and I was wandering around town, when I saw her. She was running out of a shop, covering her face and stumbling all over the place. I rushed closer, because...well, I'm not even sure why. That's what you do, right? When someone's in trouble.

The road was quite crowded, but for some reason no-one seemed to care about the fact that a young girl had just collapsed to the ground, covering her face, shaking like a leaf and gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

She was leaning to a wall, and I crouched down to her.

_"Hey? Try to concentrate, try to breath." _I had said as calmly as I could, placing a hand on her shoulder._ "Hey, you're safe, it's okay, breath._" I talked to her, trying to take her mind off of whatever had triggered the situation._ "I know you're afraid and confused but please try to concentrate. Breath, try ro stabilize it, okay? Try to calm down, it's gonna be okay, you're safe and I'm here for you. Try to breath as slowly as you can, okay?" _

She slowly calmed down, the shaking slowed down and her breathing got more stable._ "Good. Can you think clearly? Do you know where you are, do you know what happened to you?_" I asked in a moment. She was still covering her face with her hands, but quietly nodded with a small, shaky move.

When she normalized and looked at me, she seemed...confused. Surprised.  
><em>"What happened?" <em>She asked in a small voice. I blinked a few times. '_Oh. Interesting.' _I had mentally noted.  
><em>"My best guess is that something triggers your brain to go to a post-traumatic defense shock, and you're subconsciously trying to protect yourself from reality, but something goes wrong and that happens.<em>" I had explained quietly to her confused face. She listened quietly, but in a few seconds went_ "What the hell did you just tell me?"  
>"Nevermind. Want a vitamin D? It's supposed to help you recover from a panic slash an anxiety attack."<br>"Are you trying to drug me?"  
>"Do I look like go around and drug every girl I meet?" <em>I had answered, slightly amused. She had looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I had chuckled a bit.  
><em>"Right, scratch that. I guess I do.<em>" I smiled at her with a chuckle. "_Just drink tons of water, k?_"  
>I had helped her up and looked around.<br>_"You __alright?_" I asked, not really expecting an answer._ "Well, I've gotta go. Remember to breath!_" I smirked a bit and walked away. I was late from work anyways.


	5. John Smith

Jenny talked with the green-eyed cappuchino man. See, Jenny was... she was, well, likable. Like, actually, properly likable.

People felt ridiculously comfortable around her, and everyone automatically, without even realizing it, shares their life story with her. People give her what she asks for, they tell her what she wants to hear, they follow her orders and they don't even realize they're doing it. I swear she could easily rob a bank and bring down the government just by showing up and asking nicely.

And I, being a horrible person and all, taught her to use it against people. Come on, when you know everything about everyone and you know you can get anyone to do anything, how could you _not _sometimes threaten people with it? Don't get me wrong, we're not going CAM or anything, I just... well, okay. Jenny's...she's...

I'm worried about her. I'm worried about her safety, and it's in my guts to do my best to protect her. It's written in my dna to try and shield her from the ruthless galaxy around her.

Let me explain.

Well. I told you she gets panic attacks, right?

I didn't say why.

Do you want to know?

Are you sure?

People are usually better off not knowing.

That's why we have fairy tales.

But, well. Reality is never quite how we'd want it to be.

Before I tell you anything, I want you to remember that we are more than our tragedies. But then again, if I told you her whole story, it'd take about a week, so I'm just going to tell you the raw facts behind her problems.

First of all, she was raped by her step-brother when she was _thirteen_.

Then she was beaten half dead by a stranger. She was on the ICU for almost a month.

She started getting anonymous death-threads.

Kids at school started to hit her. Spread rumours about her, push her around.

She was _fourteen _and her mother started to beat her up.

She was, of course, too kind to tell anyone.

The death-threads continued, and so did the panic attacks.

Not subtle, little I-won't-pass-math -anxiety, no.

Anxiety is _never _subtle or little.

It's overpowering, it's ruthless and insane, and it breaks my heart that whenever she breaks down there's nothing I can do. There's nothing I can do except stay with her, hold her close. Tell her that slowing down her breathing rate would slow down the adrenaline. Say that the world of her nightmares won't be around forever, that she's going to be okay, that I won't leave her.

Of course, that holds no affect.

She's afraid and she's hurt and she's confused and she's _anxious, _and there's nothing I can do.

Usually I just make it worse by trying to explain the chemical reactions of her brain.

This is why I want her to be able to protect herself. I want her to feel like she's even somewhat safe, I want her not to be afraid all the time.

I mean yeah, I've taught her this and that about self-defense, but when it comes to it most people are more afraid of knowledge than they are of physical pain.

A bubbly laugh from the counter snapped me back to reality.

She looked at me, smiling.

He looked at me, smiling.

Shit.

You see, besides being oddly likable and weirdly hypnotizing, Jenny had the ability to trick people into thinking I was those things, too. She's the only reason I ever even meet other people in the first place, really. She...she, without even realizing it, picks a person and points out their good parts, paints a picture where the person is exactly what someone wants to hear. On top of being the personification of kindness, she's the most optimistic person I have ever met.

I looked at them. Observing.

His eyes were green and disturbingly wise.

They were wise in an almost dangerous way. You know, like he knew so much more than the rest of the world.

And they weren't green like a dusty old plant on the window frame, no. They were green like the rainforest, green like the first day of spring. Green like a venomuous frog, green like northern grass a second after rain.

Those altogether disturbing eyes looked right at me, and I raised a brow slightly as he and Jenny walked directly towards me.

"Hey" Jenny started, and if marshmallows could talk I swear that would've been the exact tone they would have.

"Hey" The guy continued, and as if he didn't have enough disturbing features to start with, his voice was low and gorgeous.

I smiled a bit.

"My, my." I answered, putting down the book I had been holding, and raising my eyebrows to their confused faces.

"No? Honestly? Neil Young? Ring any bells?" I asked. "Jenny, did I teach you nothing?"

She just chuckled lightly. "J, this is John. He's new in town and he's recovering from an accident. Please try to act like a human being would."

The guy, _ John, _looked at me. He looked at me like something you don't quite understand but still kind of...get, like something you want to figure out, because no matter how weird or improbable it is it's _real _and it's _there _and you want to _understand._

I blinked, and Jenny looked around. As if making sure she had somewhere else to be, she vanished, leaving the two of us alone. She had planned it, no doubt, and he had realized it, too. But to be honest I didn't mind. John didn't seem to be weirded out by the silence or the company of a stranger.

"You're not?" He asked with a hushed tone.

I blinked.

"I'm not?" I raised a brow.

"Human."

I couldn't help but smile a bit.

And for a fraction of a second he looked...happy. Relieved. What?

"Oh." I smirked. "You've got a problem with that?"

He blinked.

"Just kidding." I smirked at him. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" He furrowed his brows.

"Human."

"Oh, damn. You've got a problem with that?"

I smiled into my teacup, and after a moment looked up again.

"So. Who are you?"

He blinked.

"John Smith." He answered simply, and I looked at him.

"That's not the answer I wanted." I noted, raising a brow a bit.

"That's my name." He answered. "Isn't that how most people answer when you ask them who they are?"

I took a sip.

"I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be most people." I looked up at him. "See, you could've told me anything. A name is just a public label, it's not who you really are."

He nodded with a small smile. "Deep."

I laughed a bit, but it faded away as his smile grew just a bit too sad.

"Well, I would've lived up to your expectations, of course, but I really don't know."

I looked up, waiting for him to continue.

"Who I am. I don't know who I am."

"Deep." I noted, taking a sip again.

He gave me a short, dry laugh. "No, I mean I actually, properly do not _remember. _I've got post-traumatic amnesia."

I blinked.

"Well, shit." I breathed out. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not really, no. I woke up in a shed in the middle of nowhere, half dead with no memory." He shrugged his shoulders a bit, as if it was no big deal."I remember this and that. Hazy thoughts and half-finished ideas, you know. Blurry dreams, memories that seem just a bit too disorted to be real. Feelings. But nothing real, nothing proper. I wouldn't even know my own name if I hadn't found a key with my name on it. " He talked. "Haven't figured out what it opens yet, though."

**AN: okay so I just rewrote this chapter, because holy shit the first version was horrible**


	6. the galactic fob watch

In a moment I had to get to school, leaving behind John Smith and an interesting conversation about the multiverse theory. I was in the local college, studying astronomy for the third year now.

To be honest, I didn't hate school. I hated the people and the rules and the stupidity, but I didn't hate the school- I liked studying astronomy. Come on, we get to harvest the universe and have serious conversations about aliens, how cool is that?

Plus, not everyone was bad. Most people were, but not everyone.

There was Jack Mayhem, who was one of the best young astrophysicists I knew. His right eye was dark brown, and the left one ice blue. He was a coffee addict whose life-long dream was to become a marine captain and sail in the darkness under the stars, but he went to college anyways. You know, to please his parents. He had a pointy-eared dog named Spock and a pointy-eared little sister named Emily.

Then there was Dean Johnson, a chronical underachiever who was smart but lazy, clever but tired, bright but badly depressed. He was your typical troublemaker with absent parents and a leather jacket. His mom had practically shoved him into college, and his life goal was pretty much to be able to fall asleep at night. He didn't even care that much about the waking up -part.

Dean Johnson was also, I guess, what you'd probably call a bully. He doesn't soften reality for anyone, and he doesn't lie to make anyone happy. But he doesn't make people feel bad just for the hell of it, he doesn't hurt anyone on purpose. He's just too tired to care if he's hurting someone's feelings, 'cause he's just trying to survive trough the day himself.

Jack Mayhem and Dean Johnson were both smart, beautiful and complicated.

And they did not play along well.

It could be because of the fact that Jack used to be bullied, and oh yes, by no-one else than Dean Johnson.

It could be because of the fact that they were, no matter how many times they denied it, very similar.

Why am I telling you this?

Because my first lesson was one of my favourite ones. The science of Doctor Who. Oh yes, we really do have a course called that, and it's exactly what you'd expect it to be. Most of the time we study the possibilities of time travelling or try to map out the universe around us, or try to figure out the whole 'bigger on the inside' -thing.

It was an optional course, of course, and we didn't actually learn anything, but it was nice. And both of the forementioned boys happened to be there, too. Jack was early as always, as I rushed trough the doors.

I put a hand trough my hair as I sat down in a corner table next to him.

"It's done." He announced proudly.

"What's done?"

"It's ready."

"What's ready? Your plan to take over the world?"

He laughed a bit, going trough his bag, pulling out all kinds of more or less reasonable things. Like a few notebooks, a Snickers, something I believe used to be a computer memory from the 90s, a screwdriver and a few loose electric chords, and old book and a remote controller- you get the picture?

"No, I mean..." He muttered while pulling out the insides of an old DS and a half-eaten sandwich.

"...It's...ready." He pulled out a round, metallic object about the size of a Jammy Dodger with a smile on his face.

"Oh my god." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Oh yes." He smirked.

"You finished it? It's, like, really, actually, properly ready?" I asked. It one of was his infinite projects, and he had been working on it for as long as I can remember.

It was a fob watch, but not an ordinary one.

No, it did not turn anyone into a Time Lord. It was just a watch, but it also showed the movements of the planets of our solar system in real time. Largest moons, also, of course. I remember planning it with him, you know, making sure it was actually possible. He had always been building it, but I never thought he'd actually finish it. Whenever he was sad or hurt or just needed something to do, he went back to building the clock. It never seemed to work properly, though- there was always some little quirk bothering him. I think part of it was because he knew than when he'd finish it he'd have to actually face hes emotions, and as long as he had something to build he could shove his feelings aside for a minute.

Sometimes I joined in and we worked together, trying and failing and slowly creating the most beautiful watch I had ever seen. With steaming cups on the table, listening to each others music or with a neverending silence surrounding us.

He hung it in the air in front of me with a smile.

I turned it around in my hand, looking at the details in awe.

"It's incredible" I muttered, clicking the button to open it up.

It was...beautiful. That's all I have to say. It was beautiful and complicated and detailed and incredible.

The platform where the glass beads that represented planets circled was painted with space-couloured nailpolish. The old clockwork parts were still kind of showing here and there; the actual clock was built from mismatching parts, parts gathered from here and there and everywhere, and yet the whole thing still managed to not only work but to be the most beautiful object I have ever seen.

"It's yours." He noted casually, and I stared at him.

"No." I muttered in disbelief.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"But-"

"I want to give it to you. Now shut up and accept it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the teacher burst in, so I just glared at Jack evilly.

Needless to say, also the teacher was pretty exited about this class. Come on, he gets paid for obsessing over Doctor Who, wouldn't you be?

He started to talk about something, but I didn't listen.

Instead I watched as our little blue-green bead circled itself on the dark, glittering platform in front of me.

Jack smiled, proud of himself, when I didn't argue back and placed the delicate chain of the clock around my neck.

In a few minutes Dean Johnson opened the door, raised a brow to the teacher who didn't even expect him to be in time anymore.

He sat to a chair in front of me, leaned back on the chair and lifted up his collar.

It was Monday, and I think no-one thought anyone would be in the mood of doing any real work, so we just talked about things in groups.

"But where are they?" Dean Johnson muttered, playing with a ballpoint pen.

I raised a brow slightly.

"Elsewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere." I answered, leaning a bit closer. "See, maybe our world will never interact with an alien one. But just because we haven't met them doesn't mean they're not out there. Because time isn't a line, it's a space. A very irrelevant, and very, very flexible space. Maybe not right now, maybe not any more, maybe not in a long time, but aliens exist. I mean, if you're really saying we're alone in this universe, like most humans like to think, doesn't that sound lonely to you? Hopeless? "

A girl burst trough the door and scanned the room with her eyes.

I raised a brow a bit, looking at the girl and not listening to the counter-arguments.

The girl had old jeans, a plaid, and dark curls.

Her eyes stopped on me, and she walked closer.

I looked at her. I did not know this girl, but she sure seemed to know me.

She leaned to the table, and by the time that happened most of the students were looking at the situation.

She looked at me with a serious face.

"We need your help."


	7. Team Free Will

I raised a brow a bit.

"We?"

"The student body."

The girl glared at the teacher, probably to make sure he was out of hearing district. She looked at the people around the table, calculating. She took a breath and looked like she was going to say something, but I interrupted.

"Just mine or ours in general?" I asked, looking up at the girl with a raised eyebrow.

"Both. Maybe. I don't know."

She took a short breath.

"You know how we have all those clubs and cliques and groups and things?" She asked, and I blinked. Of course I knew. I've been in this goddamn building for three years, so yeah, I know we have about a thousand clubs working in here. We literally had a group for practically everything; from gardening to Doctor Who and from decorating to motorbikes, baking, knitting, parkour, books, movies, music -you name it, and I swear to god we have a bunch of nerds freaking out about it.

"Yeah." She muttered. "Look, let's not cause a scene about it, but people have gone missing and Team Free Will found something they want you to take a look at."

I raised my eyebrows. What the fuck?

"What, the Supernatural fandom? That's them, right?" Jack joined into the conversation.

"Yeah."

"What do you want us to do?" I asked, and Dean stared at me in disbelief.

"Do you actually believe in that shit?" He asked, and I turned my gaze from the girl to Dean.

"I'm willing to believe in anything someone's able to explain to me in any form of logic, and she hasn't even tried yet. Plus, if they want precisely _our_ help, it's gotta be something pretty awesome."

He shut up, and the girl gave me a weak smile.

"If you're in, I'll explain everything over lunch."

I shrugged my shoulders. After all, we only regret the chances we never take, so why not?

One butt-numbing lesson on russian linguistics later it was finally time for lunch (which roughly translates to 'the snickers bar from Jacks bag and a takeaway coffee'), we walked trough the practically empty hallway.

"Do you think those things real? I mean, you know, the demons and the angels and so on?" Jack asked, and I smiled a bit to myself.

"As long as they can't prove it I'm going to say no. But then again, I can't prove them wrong either, so."

I unlocked an old, heavy door and started to walk down the stairs.

You see, they had insisted on having their meetings in the basement. Something about iron doors.

I pushed back another door, and entered a room very similar to our lab. You know, just a darker, scarier version with pentagrams painted all over the place.

About a dozen students were hanging around the room, all of them now looking at us.

"So?" I raised a brow, stepped over a white line and walked to a guy sitting on a table, his finger dancing over the keyboard of a computer that was definitely not from this century.

"Yeah." The earlier girl stepped closer with a small box in her hand.

"Like I said, people have gone missing." She started. "We've been checking out the places and scanning the areas, you know, the usual stuff. Ed, show her the graph."

The guy with the ancient computer, Ed something apparently, clicked a few buttons and soon a multicoloured graph emerged to the screen.

I leaned closer.

"So, what am I looking at? Radioactivity, energyspikes, that's time, soundwaves, fusion-" I muttered, looking closer.

"Yeah. We did a full-on scan, and noticed a spike on the sound waves. We looked at it closer, and there were all kinds of readings that we couldn't really categorize, energies that we couldn't name and illogically high improbabilities with the similarity of the graphs whenever a person goes missing. They all disappeared with no trace, nothing in common." The girl explained while I looked at the graphs.

"Then the scanner went crazy. There was a massive spike in every possible thing we were measuring, and the whole thing shut down. Of course we went to check out the source, you know, the epicenter, and guess what we found."

I looked at her, and she glared at the box in her hand.

She lifted off the top and unfilded a piece of cloth, and I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't imaginig it.

It was burned, carved, shattered and bruised, but it was deffinetely a screwdriver.

A sonic screwdriver.

I blinked.

"You sure it isn't a toy?"

"Almost. We did run some tests, but I believe you guys have the right technology for that, right?"

I nodded a bit.

"You have any theories?" I muttered as I turned the screwdriver around.

"I-I don't know. I mean, we can't identify most of the energies that seem to spike whenever a person goes missing, so..."

"So it could be alien?" I muttered.

She shrugged.

"Could be a toy. Could be an experiment. Jack?" I asked, and he shook his head absent-mindly.

"Nothing quite matches." A guy sitting on the floor noted.

I looked at Jack and took a breath.

"We'll go examinate that. Send the graph to my laptop, and attach every relevant file. Send me the maps, the victims, the exact times and the theories you have. Send me every little detail and every single thought. Because ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon, there's a chance you're dealing with a quantum locked psychopath."


	8. A bad idea with french fries on the side

When I finally (four hours, three cups of coffee and one bullshitted essay later) got out of school, I headed right back to the cafe. I needed to concentrate and think, and the heavy-metal loving girl living in the flat above mine wouldn't be much help with that. But the cafe - it was one of those places where time just kind of seizes to exist. Where you can see the dust floating in the dim sunlight and the old leather-bound books lay around, waiting to be read. Where the coffeecups and cushions never quite match, where the chrismastlights circle the walls and the candlelight flickers as someone walks by. Where you can pick up a book just for a minute and then realize it's been two hours. Where a faint smell of cinnamon and mint floats in the air, and where you can always find exactly what you need; A chair to sink into, a corner to hide in, a fictional world to step into, a shoulder to cry on, a cup on coffee with whipped cream on it.

So yeah, I liked this little cafe. I liked hanging out in here. Plus hanging out with Jenny reminded me that not everyone is that horrible.

I walked in and sat (well, more like collapsed) to an armchair in the corner. For some ridiculous reason I always feel the most comfortable in corners. Something about undeveloped self-defense systems, I guess.

I pulled my laptop, a stack of paper and a half-eaten Snickers out of my bag and stared at a map where the Ed Something had marked the places where people had gone missing.

The victims, they were all different. Yeah, okay, they were all under 20, but other than that they seemed to have nothing in common. They went to different schools, liked different things, they didn't have mutual friends or hobbies or anything. There was no geographical pattern, no cronical pattern, nothing. They were all seemingly average, seemingly unimportant and seemingly normal.

_But then again. Everyone's important in the right concept. Who knows._

I looked at the official "Missing"-photos. They were all quite formal, you know, from family gatherings, Thanksgivings and weddings, things like that.

They all looked more or less uncomfortable, looking away and pulling down their sleeves, trying to avoid the camera.

But who wouldn't be a little uncomfortable, being forced to go to a boring party.

I sighed a bit and looked up as Jenny walked closer to me.

"What are you doing?" she asked, amused. "testing your telekinesis powers?"

I smiled a bit. "Nah. Just schoolwork."

"Yeah, why do you go there, anyways? I mean, you've got a job already, why the fuck do you voluntarily go to school?"

I smiled a bit.

You see, Jenny was one of those people who wanted to get out of school as soon as possible. Not because she hated education, no. Because she hated being bullied and she hated being told she would never amount to anything, she hated being surrounded by people who hated her and she hated being forced to do things she wasn't interested in, to write essays about the French revolution when everything she really wanted was to run a cute, little coffeeshop.

"So I could find myself a nice little planet half across the universe and move the fuck out of here." I smirked.

"Well, send me a card on Christmas."

I chuckled a bit, and she placed a giant cup of coffee in front of me. Yeah, okay, so I might be a bit of an addict.

"So, uh-" She started, and I raised a brow a bit.

"I...kind of, uh, did a thing..." She muttered, twirling a curl between her fingers. _If she's getting married to the idiot or something like that-_

"...and please don't punch me-" she continued, and I blinked. _What did she do. _

"But there's this one Halloween party. and I, kind of, sort of, promised that we would go on a double...date." She muttered, and I stared at her, processing the information.

"We?"

She frowned a bit. "Please don't kill me."

"Tell me."

"You, Me, Michael, and...Jack." She said with a quiet, vulnerable voice, frowning a bit.

I blinked, and let my head hit the table.

"Sorry." she muttered. "But it was a couple thing and I really really wanted to go but I can't go alone 'cause he's gonna be with his friends anyways and I don't know anyone there and-"

I took a breath.

See, I liked Jack, sure, he was amazing. He was smart and gorgeous and funny and the way he thought was absolutely beautiful, and frankly he was practically the description of perfection, whereas I was more like the dictionary description of 'ugh'.

Literally everything in him screamed BOYFRIEND MATERIAL. Yes, in all caps. Fucking underlined and bolded and with flashing neon lights. He was literally the best human being I have ever met, and I was constantly amazed by him, 'cause hell, people shouldn't be able to be that amazing. He was smart and incredible, and to be honest, he was insanely hot.

But the thing is, I am really not a girlfriend type, I'm not. I really just couldn't be in a relationship. It's not natural to me to be attached to a person; social gatherings freak me out, being with people freak me out, feelings freak me out. Especially my own feelings freak me out, not to mention those directed towards me. Trust me, when one of my friends had a crush on me in high school she told me in a drunk-hazed text 'cause everyone knew I wouldn't have been able to handle that kind of a conversation live.

I'm not emotional, I'm not sympathetic, I'm not sentimental or understanding. I'm nor optimistic or friendly. I'm a pessimistic little shit and everyone should just stay far away of me while I sit in a dark corner for a couple of decades. I would literally be the worst girlfriend ever and a date with me would probably scar him for life.

That being said, for his own sake, I really do not want to go on a date with him.

My train of thought crashed when my laptop made a small, beeping noise. I lifted my head from the desk, groaned quietly and looked at the screen.

The files had finally completed downloading, and I shoved my thoughts aside to look trough the pages.

I looked trough a bunch of theories about kidnappings, but they were all unlikely. But then again, every theory that seemed to pop up was twice as unlikely as the one before, so. Because no-one just goes missing. Not like that. They always leave a trace, and there always is a reason. An effect must have a cause, right?

"Hey, uh, say something?" I heard from besides me, looked up and blinked a few times. Right. Jenny. Yeah.

"We're alright, right? I won't wake up with only one eyebrow or anything?"

I blinked. Yeah, I once shaved off a guy's eyebrow when he was sleeping, long story. I took a breath.

"Well, yeah, I'll go. Especially if there's gonna be food. But if Jack runs screaming away I will blame you."

A smile spread to her face, and she shrugged, walking away. Well, more like skipping.

I sighed a bit, took a sip and looked at the file again.

There has got to be something useful in here. Something.

I think that the only weird thing about the missings was, apart from the actual missings of course, was that no-one seemed to care much. Not really. Yeah, there were articles on local newspapers, but not a single policeman searching, not a crying friend skipping school, no sad facebook comments, nothing. Even the official reports were amazingly blank: the victims literally had vanished without a trace. No half-eaten meals, no missed dates, no un-returned essays, no stood-up friends.

The whole thing seemed to be too well planned, like they were all ready to vanish.

I read trough dozens of pages of bullshit, only to find nothing relevant.

Absolutely nothing.

I looked up from the screen as I heard my phone vibrating, and I picked it up.

It was Jack, and I answered with a quiet humm. If he was _calling _me instead of just texting, it had to be important. He of all people should know that I don't do phone calls unless it's about life and death.

"Hey, come here. I found something that might actually be useful." He said, and I heard him go trough some papers or something. I smiled a bit. Of course he had to examinate the samples right away. From the screwdriver, I mean.

"...I'll just finish...the..." He muttered, obviously forgetting what he was saying halfway trough a sentence and getting distracted. For an astrophysicist he had the attention spam of a seven-year-old.

"Yeah, okay." I laughed, and hang up as I saw Jenny chat with some customers, and my mind started to form a plan. A terrible plan, yes, but a plan nevertheless.

"Jenny?" I asked, getting her attention.

"If you help me with something I promise I'll let you keep your eyebrows." I continued, and a smile appeared to her face.

I smiled back. "What time are you free tonight?" I asked, as I dialed a number.

"About six-ish, I guess? I'll probably be able to get Mike to do the night shift if I want- "

"Yeah. You want that." I smiled, and looked up DJ in my whatsapp contacts. He owes me a favor.

The next few minutes I spent convincing Jenny that what I wanted her to do wasn't exactly illegal.

That wasn't exactly true.

I wanted her, and DJ, to go to one of the victim's house and pretend to be from our school magazine. You know, to gather intell. I would've done it myself, but Jenny looked just appropriate and kind enough to be believable. Dean on the other hand looked just mean and intimidating enough. Meanwhile I just looked like a heroin addict most of the time; I always had rings around my eyes, and I never cared enough to cover them up. My hair was always a curly mess, and I didn't exactly care about that, either. I liked to dress in combat boots, black t-shirts, army pants- that kind of things, or sweaters and hoodies and old army jackets. My ears were full of earrings and my face was full of freckles. All in all I did not look very reliable, but Jenny on the other hand...

After a lot of explaining and a bit of blackmailing Jenny finally agreed, and I finally left to see what Jack had found.

When I walked trough the lab doors, Jack was frantically going trough some papers.

"So, what did you find?" I asked, taking off the headphones and walking up to him.

"Do you remember when a few weeks back we examinated the possibilities of using lasers on sonic technology?"

"Yeah?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

He looked at me. "This is exactly the kind of technology you'd need for that." He said quietly, and I opened my mouth to answer. The world was full of Doctor Who fans, surely one of them could've built a relatively working sonic screwdriver. Right?

"But that's not the point." He continued before I could say anything. "The lasers, they- I don't even know what they do, but they seem to have thousands of different ways to rearrange, and I haven't even found the power source yet, but the lasers seem to be able to arrange themselves according to the situation, and - and I can't identify some of the materials, J."

I blinked. "Like self-assimilating alien...apps." I asked, and when he didn't answer, I sighed a bit and muttered a quiet, sarcastic 'brilliant.'

"Are you really saying it's alien? Like, actually, properly Time Lord? Because...I mean..." I stared at him.

"I have no idea. Because...I mean..." He groaned and hit his head on a wall.

I would've laughed, but I was too busy having a mental breakdown. Because if that was a real, actual sonic screwdriver, that would mean that The Doctor probably had something to do with the missings. And that would mean that The Doctor was real. And judging by the look of the screwdriver, he wasn't in very good shape.

But if he was real, what the fuck was he doing in here?

"Please tell me you have a way of proving me wrong." He muttered, putting a hand trough his hair and handing me a stack of paper.

I stared at the papers for god knows how long, and eventually gave up.

"I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. There's not even a single grammar error or anything." I muttered as I put them down to a desk and sat next to him.

He groaned, throwing his head back in a chair.

"Do you realize-" He started.

"Yes I do, Jack." I answered and put a hand trough my fringe.

I closed my eyes and let my head drop to the table.

"What now?" He asked with a small voice after a couple of minutes of silence.

I breathed out.

"Well, I do have a bad plan on how to try and figure out the missings." I answered tiredly.

"Bring it. I bet it can't be crazier that actually suggesting that a two-hearted alien happened to crashland to our universe and lose his fucking screwdriver, which is pretty much what I'm starting to think right now."

I smiled a bit and turned to look at him. "It involves Jenny, DJ and a double-sized milkshake with french fries on the side." I noted. "If you're in I'll explain on the way."

"On the way to where?" He asked, starting to pile up his papers.

I smiled. "To the last victim's house."

He smirked a bit.

"Great, a crazy break-in plan. Just what I needed." He smiled, standing up.

"We're not breaking in, idiot. We're sitting in the car, drinking a double-sized milkshake as Jenny and Dean are pretending to be journalists from a student magazine." I explained as innocently as I could, and stood up.

"Unless they're not home, of course." I continued.

"Then we're breaking in."

He gave me a small laugh as we started walking away.

"You do realize this is a stupid plan and will probably never work?" Jenny asked me after I had explained the whole thing to them.

"Yes I do." I noted. "But that's not the point. Now, shall we?"

"You do realize that we might get arrested?" she asked as we were walking towards his car.

"We might not." I smirked. "Honestly, we're just a bunch of sad teenagers mourning the loss of-" I checked the name from the papers "-Marie Louise." Jack smiled a bit, rolled his eyes and turned the keys.

"Who is honestly going to arrest a teenage journalist? After all, you're really just doing them a favor."

"I'm sorry, but how exactly is this a favor?" DJ joined in to the conversation, and I rolled my eyes a bit.

"Publicity, DJ. That's how missing kids get found." I answered, and Jenny crossed her arms in the back seat.

"I swear to God you're insane." She muttered

"I know." I smiled, and turned up the radio.

In about twenty minutes I was sitting in the car with a phone in one hand and a milkshake in the other. Jack was tapping the wheel nervously, and Jenny and Dean were standing by a nearby door.

"Why are you so nervous?" I muttered, trying to fixate my eyes to them. I need to get my eyesight checked.

"I'm not nervous. I'm having a mental overload." He muttered back, and I couldn't help but smile a little.

In a few seconds someone opened the door for Jenny and Dean, and they walked in. I stared at the door in my thoughts.

"Look." Jack whispered suddenly, and I obeyed.

The only problem was that I had no idea what I was looking at.

In a few seconds I realized a form - a person, was walking towards the house as well.

I blinked. "This is not good. Or then it's actually very good." He whispered, looking at the person walking closer. "I can't decide."

"Wait a minute." I muttered. "That's...That's John Smith."

**(AN: Hey, tell me what you think about this 'cause I'm literally making it up as I go. Honestly, my life is boring and I'm trying to avoid schoolwork, so please, please tell me what you think about the characters, the story altogether, the current weather or anything at all come on guys my life is boring)**


	9. wait, what?

I stared at him for a few seconds.

That was definitely John Smith.

And it looked disturbingly much as if he was walking towards the same house Jenny and Dean were currently in.

And for some reason I felt like if John Smith would run into them, he would realize it's a lie in the blink of an eye.

Yep, he turned to the driveway.

Basically, I had two options here. Stay in the car or run out and stop him. Both of these were equally bad; staying in was like giving in to the universe, because I would have no control over what would happen. Probably he would understand that Jenny and Dean were lying, and I didn't know him well enough to tell whether or not he would keep it to himself. There was, of course, the small probability that if he'd know I was in on this, he'd trust me enough to keep his mouth shut. But of course, that would mean I'd have to get out of the car in about ten seconds, and preferably in a way that wouldn't lead to me answering questions like 'why were you stalking a probable crime scene'.

And running out- well, it would cause a scene. It would mean I'd probably have to explain this and that to John Smith. But it would also mean that maybe Jenny and Dean would get out of the house with some valuable information.

"Who?" Jack asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

I breathed out.

I blinked. "John Smith?" I tried, since I was quite sure he was the only person Jack could be referring to.

He nodded a bit.

"A guy I met this morning. Smart. Weird. Post-traumatic amnesia." I talked fast while I handed the milkshake to Jack and grabbed the door handle.

"What are we doing?" He put the food away and reached for the handle of the door.

"Saving our plan from possible destruction. Wait here. "

I stepped out of the car and breathed quietly. I wasn't sure what I was about to do, and that was quite alarming. I _always _knew what I was about to do. I _always _had a plan. Usually a bad one, but still.

I took a breath, and a step, and another, walking after him.

He was less than ten meters away from the door when he heard me and slowly turned around.

He blinked and stared at me.

"You...live here?" he asked, tilting his head a bit, and it sounded like he didn't quite think it was true.

"Are you here because of the missings?" I asked, avoiding the question to see his reaction.

He blinked and stood up a bit taller.

"Do you know something about that?"

I breathed in and shook my head a bit, closing my eyes for a moment. "Not yet." I muttered. "But two of my friends are inside. Please believe me when I say that I'm trying to do the right thing here, and come with me before they notice we're here." I looked into his eyes, pleading.

Because figuring out the missings, getting closer to the truth, finding out if the Doctor really was _real _(and slash or involved in this whole thing) suddenly seemed way more meaningful than my job, my studies, my hobbies, anything. Because, after a long, long time, this one day had given me hope.

Something I have not felt in a long, long time.

But now, there was that small spark of hope, the possibility that maybe, just maybe there was still hope for not only me, but for this universe. The possibility that humans wouldn't fuck up as much as they possibly could, and the possibility that the life beyond our atmosphere was so much more beautiful than that beneath it.

And I wanted to hold on to that hope, I wanted to figure this out.

And that meant that Jenny and Dean had to get out of the house with some new information.

And that meant John Smith should not get involved. Not yet, at least.

He looked into my eyes and opened his mouth to say something.

But instead he just nodded silently and took a step towards me.

"We've got a car nearby." I noted quietly, nodding towards it, and I couldn't help smiling a bit.

He walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, and when the house was definitely out of hearing district, he broke the thankful silence.

"So what do you know?" He muttered, looking up at the sky.

I considered lying. But I figured he would catch a lie unless it was a really, really well planned one. He seemed like that kind of a guy. So I decided to go with the truth. Well, a part of the truth. I thought it'd be better to leave out the part where a fandom had lead us here, and the theory where we were seriously considering the possibility that an alien with two hearts had more or less purposely crashlanded to our universe, and we were now tracking him down. Because I realize how insane that sounds, even if it is what a part of me is hoping to be true.

"Not much." I answered, looking at Jack's questionizing face in the car window. "All we know is that they are just a bit too much out of the ordinary, and we want to figure the whole thing out."

I took a breath. "Our friends ran a few tests and there were some weird energy spikes whenever a person goes missing." I shrugged. "We wanted to check out if they knew anything." I continued, nodding towards the house.

He nodded quietly. "I noticed the same thing." he muttered, and I turned to look at him. He was going trough the pockets of his jacket. A jacket that was probably an army leftover. It was worn out, but ill-fitting, a bit too narrow for his shoulders. The sleeves were a bit too long, and despite the fact that he was probably at least a few years older and like two feet taller than me, it made him look like a kid in his fathers clothes.

He obviously found whatever he had been looking for from his pocket, because the next thing I registered was a gadget of some sort. It looked...well, very put-together-making-do. I have no idea what it actually was, but I'm guessing it used to be a telephone, probably partly a remote controller. Possibly a radio. I furrowed my eyebrows a bit.

He chuckled a bit, looking down at the gadget.

"It's...uh, it's a probe I made from bits an pieces. A telephone, a radio, a broken toaster, I'm not quite sure what the one thing was, but it appears to be working. Measures radiation. " He looked a bit confused for a moment."It also makes computer screens lose their magnetic field and cucumbers grow all weird. Not quite sure why, though." He rambled, and I smiled a bit to myself, leaning to the car.

"Anyway, when there seemed to be no proper investigation or anything, I thought I'd...just... " He furrowed his eyebrows and looked confused. "I don't know." He continued dismissevly.

I'm not sure, but I feel like he didn't mean that he didn't know what he was doing. I think he meant he didn't know if this was something he'd normally do. I mean, if he'd remember what he normally does.

"But anyway. I scanned the area, and there was some weird activity, and when I found out this was the home of the last person to go missing-" He explained, leaning to the car next to me and looking up at the sky again.

"Yeah." I muttered, smiling a bit. "Pretty much what we're doing here."

"We? You and your sidekick in the car?" He nodded towards Jack with a small smile.

I laughed a bit and looked up. The stars were beginning to show.

"Yeah, us, plus two other guys. They're inside right now, trying to get some information. Didn't I tell you that already?"

"Well, I have trouble keeping up with the conversation every now and then." He muttered after a moment of silence, and I could hear the smile in his voice.


	10. Eleven

I...Okay. I don't have a lot of friends. There's Dean Johnson, who I can call when I want to get drunk or go shoot something. There's Scar, who could do both if she wasn't underage, but who, for now, is more like a little sister who crashes at my couch every now and then. There's Jenny, who I can hang around with to reset my mind or to get a new perspective on things. Or to get really really sugar high from the cafe leftovers.

And then there's Jack. Jack, who's house I can walk into whenever I feel like it. Jack, who won't question it if I sit silently for a couple of hours. Jack, who will sit quietly with me. Jack, who seems to see the world in a whole new level. Jack, who is, without a doubt, the best human being I have ever met. Jack, who seems to be the only person to have any idea about how I look at this universe.

Jack, who has never, _ever _looked at me like that.

He had rolled down the window, and I opened my mouth to tell him who John Smith was.

But the look in his eyes stopped me.

Because during the three years I've known him he's seen me angry, he's seen me sad, he's seen me tired, he's seen me laugh, he's seen all my fake smiles and he's seen me break down.

But not once has he looked at me like _that._

His eyes were full of...I don't even know what. Pain, for sure. _What did I do?_

Disbelief. Bitterness. Hope? Caring. Sorrow.

That was a look I couldn't label. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't categorize it, I couldn't science it out.

"I'm John Smith. I'm also here because of the missings, but you seem to be ahead of me." the man next to me said happily, and I blinked.

_Jealousy?_

I furrowed my eyebrows a bit.

_Could he really be childish enough to be jealous of this?_

"This whole town seems to be insane, really. It's like even the laws of physics don't care about anything in here." John Smith rambled.

I didn't take my eyes off of Jack, and tiredness started to creep into his eyes. Anger.

I blinked.

_Wait, what?_

"What? What do you mean?" I muttered, and they both looked at me.

I turned to look at John Smith. Whatever Jack was thinking about, I'll probably hear about it later. I wasn't going to let whatever bothered him bother me.

"Hm?" he answered before remembering his earlier words. "Oh. Just...you know, strange things. Little things, invisible things, unimportant things. Like...Well, I'm staying at this one motel, and there was a phone box in front of it when I checked in. You know, one of those old ones. But when I left today, it wasn't there anymore. " he shrugged. "Could be just my amnesia, though." He added with a smile.

I blinked, and instinctively looked at Jack. But he wasn't looking at me.

"And every now and then it's like reality isn't quite working, and almost like the people here live in a haze, you know? Like they see the world around them but they don't really _see_ it. " He looked frustrated."It's like..." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking up. "When people here look up, they see a million little lights. When I look up, I look at the stars, and I _know _them. "

He frowned a bit. "I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense. I swear it would be really helpful if I remembered myself from _before _last thursday."

I nodded a bit. "Nothing's making much sense these days." I muttered, and looked up as I heard Jenny and Dean come out of the house.

They thanked the woman who had let them in and started walking towards us.

"So?" I asked, but they both ignored me.

"He one of the nutcases?" Dean greeted us with a tired voice, noddind towards John Smith who furrowed his eyebrows a bit.

"Dean!" Jenny said, sounding like a mother whose 3-year-old kid just pushed a younger sibling down on the sandbox.

"I've got post-traumatic amnesia, if that answers your question." He said calmly, and Dean blinked.

"Did you find out anything relevant?" Jack said, and both Jenny and Dean looked at him.

They shook their heads a bit.

"I'm sorry." Jenny started "But no. The missing girl had nothing weird about her. She had been quite quiet, but not more than usual. Altough it seemed like the parents hadn't known her very well. I mean, they let us take a look at her room, and I feel like the girl had been nothing like the parents told us she was. Little things were off, you know, music taste, books she had, things like that. " She took a breath. "And they told us she had had no special interests or talents, but we found drawings, and some things she had written. The girl was good."

"So either they're lying or they really didn't know their little girl at all?" Jack answered, and Jenny nodded a bit.

"Makes sense, I guess." Dean continued. "They had three other children, and to me it seemed like the girl had mostly just spent time in her room. No wonder the parents had no time to get to know her, right?"

"...Right." I nodded a bit, and noticed Dean looking at me. He looked like he was about to say something, but he stayed silent.

"Maybe we should just call it a day and go home, what do you think?" Jack sighed. "Marie Louise seemed to be no help with this."

everyone mumbled agreeingly, and John Smith took a step away from the car.

"Well. If you find something or need my help or anything, I'll probably be eating my meals at the cafe." He noted, and I smiled a bit.

"Yeah", I answered as everyone started to climb into the car and John Smith walked away.

Everyone was mainly silent as Jack dropped us off. Dean noted that he thought this whole thing was stupid and that the kids had probably just bailed to get rid of this stupid town and their stupid families, but other than that no-one said a thing. And old mixtape played in the background, and Jack looked disturbingly tense all the time. I was worried he might drive over a pedestrian just for the heck of it.

He left me and Jenny at the cafe, 'cause my apartment was practically right next to it.

The roads were silent, and the cafe was the only source of light besides the full moon over us. Something about the town saving money and never actually using the streetlights.

I heard a frustrated groan and some mumbling across the street.

I looked up, a¨staring at the man swaying around and pointing at the sky. _Screaming _at the sky.

He was either very drunk or very insane, and I stopped on my tracks to hear what he was saying.

"Oi! Why won't you start working? It's not that complicated!" He muttered, walking around, and I realized he was holding some sort of a controller with a blinking, fading light on it.

"No, no, no! You can't be broken!" He mumbled, hitting the thing and swirling around.

It was too dark to really see what he looked like, but for some reason I was pretty sure I didn't need to place my keys between my fingers. For a minute I thought I could just go home and let it be, but curiosity won. I took a step closer.

He let out a frustrated groan and turned around once more.

"This is it." he argued to himself, "Why would you bring me here? More importantly, why would you bring me here and _stop working?_"

"Hey, you okay?" I asked as I walked closer, since I had nothing better to say and just creeping up on him might be a tiny bit creepy.

He turned around dramatically, probably trying to locate me, and seemed to loose his balance.

"...Yes, sure, I'm fine, yes." He answered, sounding like he was reassuring himself, and swung the controller up again.

He looked like he could fall over any second as he walked closer, looking like a drunken giraffe.

My stomach dropped.

_A drunken giraffe._

My eyes widened a bit as he approached.

…..N_o. It can't be._

"Are you drunk?" I asked, getting a surprised, a bit offended look in return.

"What? No!"

"What...are you doing?" I tried. There were three options here. One, I had Matt Smith, drunk, in my back yard. Two, I had a very talented cosplayer, probably drunk, in my backyard. Three, The Doctor had in fact crashed to our universe, and he was in my back yard. Drunk.

"I'm just trying to get this stupid thing to work!" He mumbled to his machine, which seemed to be a homemade version of a game controller of some sort. "This place is supposed to be important but I-" his voice faded, as if he forgot to say the rest of the sentence out loud. In fact, he sounded like he wasn't going to say that out loud at all in the first place.

"Who are you?" I asked, thinking this was a question that would narrow down my options.

I was wrong.

"John Smith." He stood up a bit taller.

_Yeah, right. Thanks for nothing. Should've just offered him jammy dodgers and handcuffed him into a heater and blackmailed the truth out of him or something._

"I'm here to measure the air structure." He pulled out the psychic paper badge with an overdramatic move and a disturbingly serious face.

I blinked, and to play his game, glanced at the paper.

I knew it to be blank, and raised a brow a bit.

"Uh-huh." I answered sarcastically, and he turned over the paper to look at it, furrowing his non-existent eyebrows.

He put away the badge, looking like he was trying to come up with Plan B, and glared at his controller again.

I sighed a bit. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm tired, and I'm not going to play along with your games all night." I talked, "But you're under no obligation to tell me the truth. So unless you intend to, I'll just leave you alone now."

He looked at me, looking like he was trying to figure something out. Make a decision.

Apparently he made the decision to tell me, because he started talking with a honest, serious voice.

"I'm the Doctor." He started, and I blinked. "Something happened to my travelling machine and now I'm here. Not sure why, though."

"That'd better be true."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

I looked at him. "Well, first of all, I'm still pretty assured you're drunk. Secondly, the fake name and the blank badge?"

He smiled a bit, and I didn't see why.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his controller lit up and beeped.

He stared at the machine, then looked up at me.

"I've got to go" He said quickly, offering a hand for me to shake. "What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter." I answered, and he looked at me for a few seconds.

"Sure it does." He noted. "But I haven't got time to argue right now. See you later!" He yelled, and ran off, almost falling over.

And I'm really, really, really hoping that was just a really, really drunken cosplayer, because otherwise we were in deep shit. And so is the Doctor.


	11. She's not a letter person

I walked in to my apartment and threw my bag to a corner.

_Okay. So, today was interesting. I found a sonic screwdriver that might actually be **the **sonic screwdriver, and I found a Doctor that might actually be **the **Doctor. _

Both of these ideas annoyed me. Mostly because I'm used to logically sorting out things, and neither of these thoughts made any kind of rational sense. Also partly 'cause I didn't really want to let myself believe that the Doctor was real.

I sighed and put the kettle on, only to find an envelope neatly placed on top of my trademark teacup.

_Okay._

_Jenny, the housekeeper whose name I can't remember, Jack, Scar and DJ. _

_The first two I've given a key to, and I know for a fact that the last three can pick locks._

_Who would've left me an envelope? _

_Doesn't sound like DJ, altough he's been acting kind of weird lately. _

_Jenny? Probably not. She says everything out loud. Plus I doubt she even owns white envelopes. All of her stuff is pink, and I wouldn't be surprised if her envelopes were, too._

_Jack? _

…_.Could be, but why?_

I picked it up and ripped it open.

_Scar?_

_No. She doesn't do letters. She does post-it notes glued around with strawberry bubblegum. She doesn't leave letters._

My stomach dropped.

_Unless._

_No._

My breath caught up to my throat as I opened the neatly folded paper that started with the words_ 'I'm sorry' _and ended with a_ 'Goodbye.' _

The teacup dropped from my hands as I spinned around, grapped my keys and slammed the door shut behind me.

The neighbors would complain, but I didn't care.

I ran down the steps and hopped on to my bike.

I had left my helmet inside, but I'd never fallen over, the streets were empty and her house wasn't far away.

_I've got to be there before -_

I didn't hear myself finish that thought, 'cause the engine roared under me.

I didn't give a fuck about the speed limits, and the adrenaline made my heart race.

Let me tell you a thing about her family.

They're sick. They're horrible. They abuse her, physically and verbally and probably in ways she hasn't even told me about. Her parents treat her like a piece of shit. Hell, they've _told _her to kill herself. She's _fifteen _and her own _mother_ has told her to kill herself.

But the thing is, if I was to tell anyone, a police, a social worker-

No-one would believe me.

Her parents are incredible actors. They put on a show, and even I would have no idea what's happening behind the curtains unless she'd told me.

They're rich, they're pretty. They've got a dog and a garden and a townhouse with a white picket fence. No-one would believe me. And if I told anybody, her parents would find out she's told somebody. That would mean she'd get her ass kicked. Because let's face it, with the system like this, I doubt she'd actually get out of there.

Maybe this was the only way out she saw.

_What if I'm too late? God, I shouldn't have stayed out and spoken with the stupid drunken guy, I shouldn't have played a detective, I shouldn't have-_

I took a shaky breath as I hit the brakes, turned to her yard -killing her mom's flowers, good-, and jumped off, letting the bike fall over.

_What if I'm too late?_

A part of my brain registered that there was no car on the yard. Her parents were gone. Again.

I took a quick look at the door and decited that it was probably very old and very expensive and her parents were probably very, very proud of it.

I took a breath kicked it open, breaking the lock. Well, technically I kicked the old wood next to the lock so that the actual lock stayed in one piece and the wood around it shattered, but the point is that I got in, and they would have to purchase a new door.

My heart was skipping beats as I was skipping steps, running up to her room.

That's definitely where she'd be, she'd want her parents to find her after they've already been home for a while, and realize that maybe they could've done something.

I took a long, shaky breath as I heard quiet sobbing.

_She was still alive. _

_Well, at least externally._

I slowly pushed open the door, and she was facing a window. Her shoulders were shaking, and a part of me registered a small, black gun loosely in her right hand.

_She must know I'm here. She probably saw me come._

"Don't do it." I said quietly. I wanted to say something important, but I couldn't think of anything. "Please, Scar." My voice was weak. Shaky. I fucking hate when that happens.

"Why?" She yelled with a broken, quiet voice, and I swear I never knew screams could be so quiet. "What's the _point?_"

"Scar-"

"No, don't! You know I'm right, and you know humans are horrible and this _world _is horrible and there's no-one out there who'd miss me, and you _know _it'll never get better, it'll never get easier!" She screamed, eyes full of pain and tears and red veins that indicated night after sleepless night spent crying.

Her voice grew quieter, more steady.

"How can you tell me not to do it, when, if it weren't for Jack you would've-" She swallowed the rest of the sentence with a sob.

I looked at her.

"This has nothing to do with him."

"This has _everything _to do with him, J!" She emphasized her words by throwing her hands around.

I let out a pained breath. "It won't last forever, Scar. I promise. If the final straw was your family, I promise I'll deal with that. If it was the fact that you're tired, sad, angry, lonely, _anything _- I promise I'll help you trough it. But please, _please, _don't do it. I know it not may seem like it, but people care, Scar. They just don't tend to show it." I said quietly, stepping closer and hoping I didn't sound like a psychiatrist.

She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

"I know you're tired of being strong, tired of having no-one to blame, tired if being tired, tired of being treated like you don't matter, Scar, I _know. _But believe me, It's not worth it, it's not." I stepped a bit closer. "Because billions of neutron stars died to form the atoms that formed you, Scar. You're literally stardust, a piece of outer space. And yes, some day that stardust will go on in a universe that's constantly growing and changing and creating, but today's not that day, Scar. You're a miracle in a cold, rocky galaxy. Think about everything you have left to see, to feel, to learn. Think about all the songs you haven't listen, all the movies you haven't seen. Think about all the people out there who are dying to meet someone like you."

"That's the _thing, J. _There is no-one." she spat out as she leaned against a wall and slided down to the floor.

"There always is someone. This is just one town, Scar. You say the word and I'll take you to see the world and meet thousands and thousands of new people. If you want a boyfriend, if that's what this is about, I will find you one, I fucking promise. Hell, I'd date you myself if I was into girls. Or dating." This got a small smile out of her.

"Because you are incredible, Scar. I know you don't believe it, but you are. I'm sorry that your parents are fucked up, and I know it's not fair and I know that they should be loving and supportive, but they're just people, and you're under no obligation to put up with their shit. Just because they're your parents doesn't mean they have the right to treat you badly. I promise you, if you just say so I will deal with them, and you won't have to see them ever again if you don't want to." I sat next to her.

"Please." I whispered.

She breathed slowly, looking at the gun.

"Tell me one thing." She whispered. "Tell me the truth, and I'll put down the gun."

"Deal."

She took a breath. "If you'd never met him, would've you done it? "

I wanted to say no, I really did.

But I wasn't so sure.

"Being lonely was never the main reason I was depressed, Scar. I was depressed 'cause human beings are horrible and I can't change that, and 'cause I'm going to be stuck on this planet for the rest of my life, and there's nothing Jack can do about that." I said quietly. "Plus, even if it had been about being lonely, mental illnesses depend on physics and chemistry. They're literally chemical reactions in your brain, and even a thousand Jacks couldn't have changed that."

She smiled. "Now all I can think about is a thousand Jacks chanting exitedly about some new nuclear research result wearing safety goggles. Thanks a lot."

I smiled a bit at the image, too, but continued more seriously. "So no, I wouldn't have. But you need to understand that I never stopped being hurt, Scar. I stopped caring."

She nodded slowly, but her fingers were still loosely curled around the gun.

"How?" She asked quietly. "How do you stop caring? How do you stop being in pain, when you know it's not gonna get better?" Her voice cracked.

I slowly placed my hand on top of hers. The one that was holding the gun.

"You accept the reality we live in. You realize that there are certain things that you can't change, and certain things that simply don't matter." I talked.

She took a shaky breath as I slowly tried to take the gun from her.

"And you have to realize that _you _matter."

The phone in the pocket of my jacket started vibrating loudly, and in the quiet room it sounded like an army jet breaking the sound barrier.

She flinched at the sound, and her finger on the trigger flinched, too.

**AN: okay listen up i have a real life advice I want to give you but i couldn't really fit it anywhere in there so wth ****story time**

**For, like, as long as i can remember i've always had this 'i wish someone fell in love with me' -thing going on. You know, the 'i wish my crush liked me back and so on' -thing. Which is probably relatively normal, right? **

**But the thing is, i always, for god knows what reason, thought that if someone just fell in love with me things would automatically get better. I wouldn't be sad any more, I'd be more confident, I'd like myself, all that. I'd be happier. For some reason i thought that a relationship would solve all of my problems.**

**Which was not what happened. **

**Whenever someone had a crush on me, it did absolutely nothing to my confidence. I just felt kind of sorry for them, because boy, they had low standards.**

**this is the important part. **

**I know that there are a lot of people out there going NO-ONE WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU UNLESS YOU LOVE YOURSELF**

**and I think that's bullshit.**

**You not liking yourself will not stop other people from liking you.**

**Also, other people liking you will not make you like yourself, it _shouldn't _make you like yourself****. You need to like yourself first, that's the hard part. Because if you end up feeling like your worth depends on someone else's appreciation of you, you'll probably end up miserable, 'cause hell, that's not how it should go. You need to like yourself, just because you're awesome and hella rad, not just because someone else likes you. **

**And yeah. I know liking yourself is really really hard, but I honestly believe every one of you out there can do it, 'cause hell, you're already trying. You're still here and you're still trying. You're still alive and you're still trying.**

**And I'm here trying with you.**


	12. unfortunate events

The next few minutes happened in slow motion.

Have you ever been in an accident? A car crash?

You know how time bends when something bad happens? How you're sometimes in so deep shock you don't feel any pain? How time slows down and a second feels like a minute and a minute feels like a year?

I haven't got a clear memory of what happened, but I'm pretty sure it went something like this.

The gun went off. The bang rang in my ears, companied by my own heartbeat, and soon by Scar's panicked scream.

The gun dropped from her hand.

I blinked.

I heard myself thinking that if the gun went off, the bullet must be somewhere. But I didn't hear anything breaking, just a dull clank of some sort, and Scar isn't screaming like she's hurt, she's screaming like she's, well, screaming.

__Oh.__

I stopped wondering where the bullet ended up when I felt the mind-numbing pain pulsing in my left forearm. I guess the few seconds of shock had saved me from the worst pain, but now that I felt it, I instinctively doubled over. She was hyperventilating next to me, and I let out a pained gasp.

I pulled up the blood-stained sleeve of my jacket, trying to stabilize my breathing.

__Odds are that blood loss is my worst problem. Panicking will just speed up my hearbeat and shorten my time of sensible thinking.__

She tried to say something, but her words were muffled up.

I tried to wipe off some of the blood pulsing from the wound, trying to categorize it.

__It could be worse, the wound.__

The wound was on the side of my forearm, but it had still hit some relatively big veins, judging by the amount of blood.

_I need preassure on the wound. Now._

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, what do I do, what do i __do__?" she sobbed, and I tried to take a steady breath and stand up.

__Okay.__

__Movement. Bad.__

I leaned to the wall with my good hand.

"I need compression on the wound, now." I took a breath. "Also, morphine would be nice."

I looked around to find something I could wrap around my arm. She did the same thing, and soon pulled out a t-shirt. I pulled my sleeve up higher.

I started wrapping the t-shirt around the wound, while she went trough her drawers, probably looking for something I could use as a weight.

I remember thinking that I'm glad I've given her a few good-to-know lessons about first aid.

A part of me noted that I should probably be in more pain than I was.

But we were alive. That was the most important part.

After a few seconds she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, weighing it in her hand. She soon emptied its contents to the floor, and I concentrated on wrapping the shirt around my arm.

A small part of my brain registered that she had started smoking.

A larger part of my brain registered that one packet wasn't enough.

"I'm gonna need two of those." I noted, trying to ignore the blood staining the shirt. "The bullet came out, too."

__Wait. If the bullet came out, it wasn't inside me. And if it wasn't inside me, no-one would have to poke my insides to get it out. On the other hand, if it came out, the damage was probably worse than I realized.__

I took a shaky breath. She soon handed me two packs, and I placed one of them on each side of my arm.

"Can you ride my bike? Without falling over, that is?" I asked, wrapping the fabric tightly as the blood slowly but steadily dripped trough, and the pain pulsed trough my system.

She looked hesitating, but in a few seconds gave me a small nod.

"Good. Where did you get the gun?"

She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, probably wondering why was that a relevant question.

I tightened the fabric.

"We're gonna need a reason behind the fact that I have a hole going trough my arm. If it's stolen you're gonna get caught, unless you can come up with a really convincing lie."

She opened her mouth to answer, but soon closed it and shook her head a bit.

"Let's go before you faint from blood loss." She said with a strangled voice, and I followed her down the stairs, trying to walk a straight line and failing miserably.

Thank god the hospital wasn't far away. Also, I'm pretty grateful that I used one summer on giving her driving lessons.

The wind screamed in my ears, and the cold night air seemed to calm down the pulsing pain in the wound.

I guess I was kind of running on all kinds of defense mechanisms, instincs and shock hormones, 'cause the next thing I realized were the disturbing beeping of the hospital machines and the sterile, overpowering hospital scent.

I registered a tired-looking nurse looming over me, and slowly the rest of the room started to form a shape, too.

"Hello." He said with an overly nice voice, and I squinted my eyes a bit due to the very, very bright lights.

_I haven't been here for long. I can't have._

"Uh-What...?" I tried, and the words tasted weird on my tongue.

__Wait. What? Why am I here?__

My brain started to list facts.

__Scar. The wound. Right.__

I looked at the guy, and he was smiling a tired smile.

"Don't worry." He said, and that was deffinetly something I would worry about, because that meant there was something I could be worrying about.

"You lost quite a lot of blood, but luckily your sister knew what she was doing."

__Sister?__

"I mean with the first aid, not with the shooting." He added quickly, sounding a bit...what, quilty?

__Oh, Scar? If she told them she was my sister, what else did she lie about?__

"We had to stitch the wounds, but it'll heal nice and clean." He frowned a bit, and I noticed how young he was. Probably a trainee?

"However, the bullet did do quite a lot of damage, but we did everything we could, and your tissue repares itself quickly." He explained, and I sat up on the hospital bed.

The part of my brain that makes pointless remarks noted that I was still in my own clothes, so I really hadn't been in here for long, and I couldn't be in _that _bad shape, but they had probably pumped some pretty heavy painkillers into my veins, taken I had blacked out.

"But your state is stable, and we'll let you go home quite soon." He smiled a bit to himself. "Just don't give the keys to a fifteen-year-old again, eh?"

I smirked a bit. "Well, I was making do. I knew she could drive, and to my own defense things like driving license age limits tend to slip your mind when you're being shot."

He made a small, tired laughing-kind of noise.

"Talking of which, where is she?" I asked.

"Down the hall, talking with your boyfriend. She's hardly left the room, but we figured it would be best if she didn't see the wound."

__Okay, maybe I'm on more painkillers that I realize, because I'm kind of pretty sure I don't have a boyfriend. But then again, if Scar said she's my sister, she could've lied about a boyfriend, too. But why?__

In the middle of that thought someone knocked on the door, and the nurse looked at me. "Is it okay if I let them in?" He asked, and I nodded a bit.

"Sure." If nothing else, I wanted to go home as soon as possible. Also, I kind of wanted to meet my 'boyfriend'.

The door opened and Scar rushed in with tear-swollen eyes and a worried look on her face.

And I guess a part of me expected Jack to walk in behind her, because I was slightly surprised as I saw DJ lean to the door frame with his hands loosely in his pockets.

I...Okay. I would categorize Jack as my best friend, and if someone were to offer to pretend to be my boyfriend, I bet he'd be the first in line. I mean yes, we're just friends, though no-one seems to be believing that, but still. It's kind of one of those annoying "it's complicated" -things, where we really are just friends but I know we potentially _could _be more.

When I first met him, I was in pretty bad shape, dealing with a lot of mental problems. And he was the only person I actually told about any of them, besides a few therapists. And I only told the therapists 'cause I wanted to get rid of them as quickly as possible.

See, I don't exactly have the most fun family history, okay. My parents weren't exactly very nice. I mean, okay, they might have been, if they hadn't been so damn tired all the time. You know, tired of not having enough money, tired of not having stable jobs, tired of living with a badly disabled, dying child.

Yeah. That would be my sister.

She lived ten years, four months and 22 days. Ten years, four months and 22 days of torture and problems, ten years, four months and 22 days of meds and tests and therapies. Ten years in absolute hell, the rest in somewhere even worse, just waiting for her to die.

Ten years knowing that each day could be the last, ten years just _waiting _for things to get worse, 'cause hell, everybody knew they couldn't be getting any better from here.

Ten years. Ten years more than she was promised in the beginning.

When that 22nd day came by, or night, to be exact, my parents kind of lost it. And hell, I can't even blame them. I kind of lost it, too.

My parents started drinking, or well, stopper trying to control their drinking, and were soon announced _incapable of taking care of a mentally unstable minor. _So, they kept me in the hospital. The social workers. They made me go to all kinds of psychiatrists and group therapies, probably 'cause I once happened to have a minor mental breakdown and I screamed to a poor, innocent psychiatrist that human beings were awful and we were all trapped to this stupid, doomed solar system and this goddamn fucking rock and that this whole goddamn galaxy is spiraling towards its own destruction _as we speak, _and _you're more concerned about what I ate for breakfast because it's super important to remember to eat honey and have you spoken to your friends lately have you been taking your meds_.

None of these therapies hepled me on any way, however, and they couldn't keep me there forever. Soon I was legally an adult, and I just wondered around for a few years, you know, living on the road, glamorously sleeping in the pick-up truck I _absolutely did not steal from a junk yard what are you even talking about come on can you fix it or not _

and then I settled down in here.

Then I got into college with high school papers that I am not that proud of and which I _absolutely did not forge come on who even does that _

and then I met Jack.

And he was the one that reminded me that not everyone is that horrible. He was the one that showed me that while we may be trapped on this mostly harmless rock going round and round and round, there's still a lot of pretty cool stuff going on.

He was the one that showed me that maybe the whole thing is not about finding something to live for, it's about finding something you're ready to die for.

He is, without a doubt, the best human being I have ever met, and he is a human being I would happily let loose from this planet.

And that, my friends, is the highest compliment I will ever be capable of giving.

And yes, I might aswell admit he's hot as hell. The eyes, one icy blue and one so dark brown it was practically black? The freckles? The hair that is perfectly messy? And don't even get me _started _on his body.

And the thing is, every time someone -usually Jenny- went on and on about how we would be _so perfect together, _A tiny part of me agreed. Hell, we were already practically married, you know, minus the living together and all of the romantic stuff. And the expensive rings and the constant pointless fighting. Okay, forget the already married -metaphor, the point is that we get along.

Because, quite possibly, Jack Mayhem was one of the things I would die for. That had to mean something, right?

"Hi, sleepyhead." I heard DJ say in a very non-characteristic voice, and that snapped me back to reality.

The nurse smiled towards them, and I'm kind of sure he wasn't smiling at Dean.

"What if we just go home and get some sleep?" Scar said, with a voice that sounded like she was hiding something. Or then I was just high from all the morphine running in my veins.

"Yeah, sounds great." I noted, and DJ gave me a small smile from the doorway.

In about an hour we were all sitting in his car, me with a ton of painkillers in my pocket and Scar with the nurse's phone number in hers.

"I'll drive you home and then come back and drive your bike back to your place, okay?" Dean noted, as if there was nothing weird in the situation.

"Uh-huh, and before you do that you could explain why I have a sister and a boyfriend I didn't know about."

Scar smirked a bit.

"I figured that if I was finally going to get back at my parents, I might as well start with your hospital bill." She explained. "And they wouldn't have told us anything if we weren't related. And they wouldn't have let you leave with him if you two weren't in a relationship." She shrugged. "He happened to call you when they threw me out to the hallway, and I knew he had a car, so..." She trailed off.

I couldn't help but smile a bit. The kid was smart.

"How much did you tell them?" I asked.

"Everything. I mean, changing your personality and relationship status. But other than that I told the truth."

"And?"

"And, who knows? I told them that I'll be living with you, and they told me that when my parents get home they'll have the law and order waiting them."

I gave her a tired smile as DJ stopped the car to my house.

"You really don't have to go back to pick up the bike, you know." I noted as he parked the car to my unused parking space in front of the house. "I can do it myself in like a year or so when I wake up."

"Nah, it's all right. And I really want to test it too, you know. To know is your bike better than mine or am I just a lousy driver." He smirked a bit as we got off of the car.

The hospital wasn't far away, nothing in this town is, and he started walking back. But before he turned to leave, he suddenly pulled me into a hug.

Dean Johnson doesn't do hugs.

"Don't go to sleep yet. I need to talk to you." He whispered, turned around, tucked his hands to his pockets and started walking back.

__What, he had something to tell me? Something so important it couldn't wait till tomorrow? Something so secret Scar couldn't know about it?__

I sighed a bit. I was too tired to think about secrets and mysteries. He could tell me whatever the hell he wanted, but I wasn't going to worry about it until it actually happened.

As we walked in and I instinctively put the kettle on and cursed at my broken cup, meanwhile Scar went on and on about how sorry she was.

"J?" She asked, and I hummed as an answer. "I really am. Sorry."

I smiled a bit. "Hey, it's okay, kiddo. We're alive, and that's the important part. Plus I'm on so many painkillers you have no idea, and the battle scar is kind of cool." I smiled a bit. "And look at the bright side. You'll get rid of your parents, and you may even get a date out of all this." I smirked at her tiredly. "I saw how you were looking at the nurse." I explained as she looked a bit confused.

In a few minutes I heard the familiar engine roar on the yard.

"I'll go see DJ, he said he had something to tell me. Why don't you go to sleep? I won't be long."

She muttered an agreement and soon collapsed to the couch, and I closed the door quietly behind me.

"I'm sorry, J." He started, and I raised a brow a bit. "I know you're tired. But I had to tell you. I...I think I know what connected the missing kids."

My eyes widened a bit, and he started to go trough his pockets.

"I found these from the girl's room." he pulled out a pile of separate razor blades, and my stomach dropped a little bit. "I didn't say anything earlier, I didn't want to upset Jenny but-" He continued.

"But think about it. What if they weren't just ready to disappear." He took a breath. "What if they were preparing it?" he looked at me.

I blinked and nodded slowly.

"But that doesn't mean this whole thing still isn't weird as fuck." I answered. "I mean, I know you think it's stupid, but the screwdriver they found, it...it seems legit E.T, DJ. And John Smith?" I let out a short, tired, sarcastic laugh. "A strange man with no memory of his past but a suspiciously wide knowledge of the universe, science and technology just __happens __to come around when a bunch of kids suddenly go missing? While he has no memory of how he lost his memory, but he notices things like disappearing __police boxes___?_ And his name just __happens __to be John Smith?" I gave him a short, sarcastic chuckle. "And earlier today, you know, I actually met a man who insisted on being the Doctor. Wait, no, he insisted on being __John Smith___, _and when I pointed out that the psychic paper he showed me was, in fact, blank, he __then __insisted on being the Doctor."

He blinked a few times, then sighed quietly. "I don't know what's behind all this, but I'll help you find out if you want me to." He said, and I gave him a tired smile. "But for now I think you need approximately a thousand hours of sleep to function properly."

I smiled a bit as he throwed the keys back to me. "You sure you don't want me to stay over? " He asked, and to be honest I was surprised it didn't sound like a sex offer. Because Dean Johnson was practically nothing but sex offers. But then again, I had a gallon of morphine in my veins, and for all I know he could've just told me he's from Mars and I would've just been 'K'.

"Nah, I think we're good." I smiled a bit, and he shrugged a bit.

Opening the door of his car, he suddenly froze. "What if he is?" He asked quietly, and I raised a brow.

"The Doctor. What if they're both him, just_ a different time stream?_" he continued, and I blinked.

_He's right._

"I mean, that could explain the accident he can't remember, wouldn't it? Regeneration? What if-" He turned to look at me. "-What if the accident that he can't remember is him trying to destroy whatever is taking the depressed kids? And what if something goes wrong?" He explained, now sounding more convinced about his theory.

My eyes widened. "_DJ. _They're targeting the kids who are already _ready_ to disappear, right?" I said, taking a sharp breath. "We've got one upstairs." I whispered.

Scar's blood-chilling scream ripped trough the night.

**A.N ; Okay first of all I'm sorry it's long and messy and it probably has a lot of typos, but I wanted to finally write a chapter that sort of binds together the whole thing. So, what do you think?**


	13. quantum-locked moron

We looked at each other with widened eyes for a heartbeat.

Before running upstairs, that is.

I ran the steps three at once, the increaced heartbeat making the wound throb again, and DJ followed close behind me.

We heard Scar's disorted, high-pitched scream turn into creative insults like 'butt-faced miscreant', 'brain-dead misogynistic piece of shit' and 'mentally disorted lower-class ectoplasm', and I heard my heartbeat pound through my head.

I mentally cursed the day I decited to live in the fourth floor as my vision started blurring. I still had a shitload of painkillers in my system, I was tired as hell, and also I'm pretty sure it's not recommended to run like a maniac a couple of hours after you've been shot.

Another scream ripped trough the hallways, and I had to lean to a wall not to fall over.

DJ offered me a hand and pulled me after him for the last few steps, and soon my mind registered the other screamer to be the girl who lived upstairs.

_Of course. She never sleeps when it's dark outside._

It took me a few seconds to get the picture, and DJ, probably unconciously, was still holding onto me so I wouldn't fall over.

The girl upstairs - I never grasped her name, but I could've listed her favourite songs and tv shows, sleeping schedule and the way she drinks her tea - she was standing on my door, holding up a frying pan.

My door, that had a broken lock. And it hadn't been kicked in, no.

The lock had been twisted out of shape. The metal had been preassured unrecognizable with raw strength, like the handle had melted or something. What?

She stopped the incoherent screaming, and turned to me with wide eyes.

"The fuck is that thing?" She screamed, her voice breaking down.

She stared inside my flat, and I automatically tried to see whatever she was looking at.

Scar was standing back against a wall, holding a swiss army knife.

On her face she had a look so scared, so tired, so broken I hardly recognized her.

Yet under all that she had the familiar determined look in her eyes and the trusty army knife in her hands.

"Yeah? Come on then, you squid-faced soulless piece of crap" she said quietly.

I pushed aside the black-haired girl and entered the room.

My heart skipped a beat.

Trough a large mirror that covered one of my walls I finally saw what had broken in to my flat and was now threatening my 'little sister'.

"You've got to be kidding me." I muttered quietly.

DJ stumbled to the room, too, with a quiet, disorted 'oh my _god.'_

And suddenly I was really, really glad I happened to own pair of mirroring pilot sunglasses.

I walked closer to the tall, grey angel statue in the middle of the room.

"You alright?" I muttered, now standing in front of Scar, staring at the angel that was reaching over to her.

"A brilliant plan, to be honest." I talked to the angel, hoping it could hear us. "Taking the ones who do the job for you. Save yourselves from a lot of trouble, really."

"The fuck is it?" The girl from upstairs yelled. "it _moved!" _

"It's a quantum-locked psycopath that feeds off of time energy." I answered, flipping the sunglasses around in my hand.

"A brilliant self-defense mechanism. When you look at it, it literally turns to stone. " DJ explained, slowly walking around the statue. "And you can't kill a stone."

"They're zapping self-destructive kids back in time to feed off of their futures in the current time."

"There's just one problem." I noted, putting on the mirroring pilot glasses.

"Kid's off the menu, bitch." I spat out.

"Because you've left quite a lot of traces and we're getting kind of tired of your extraterrestial bullshit." I talked quietly, not even trying to veil the annoyance from my voice. Hell, I've just been shot and now some dumb-ass aliens are breaking into my house, plus I'm on my period. Yeah, I'm gonna be pissed.

" And right now, you've managed to wake up an entire building of people. And not just that, you've managed to get about a thousand masterminds after yourselves. You're not really good at this staying undercover-thing, are you?" I let out a dry chuckle and flipped my phone around in my hand. "Also, you know what this little thing happens to be doing?" I smirked, holding the phone in front of the statue. "It's transferring live feed video to a small piece of nowhere called the Times Square. You know, just about a billion people staring at you at the same time. And well, I never actually went to my probability math classes, but I'm pretty sure odds are they never quite blink at the same time." I smirked a bit. "And I suggest you get lost quite quickly and go tell all of your buddies to think twice before you mess with my planet again. Because yeah, humans may be stupid, but they'll sure as hell put up a fight." I talked quietly, and a few seconds later the angel was gone.

"Quantum locked morons." I muttered as I turned to Scar, who was now visibly shaking. She slowly walked to the couch, still clutching onto the knife, and I raised the glasses to my forehead.

DJ furrowed his eyebrowas a bit, and I raised mine slightly, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.

"There's more." He muttered, rubbing his forehead a bit. "There's got to be."

I nodded a bit. "'Cause there's still something messing with reality." I said quietly.

The girl from the flat above mine seemed to be disturbingly calm about the fact that she had just seen an alien, and she soon went back to her batcave. You know, after a cup of camomille tea and a reassuring 'no they won't come after you you're just a civilian'

My mind, on the other hand, wasn't registering the situation very clearly. Could be the painkillers or the lack of sleep, or it could be the fact that a bloody weeping angel had just broken in to my apartment.

I'm quite sure I had automatically made tea as soon as the angel fled (my reaction to anything, really), and at some point DJ offered to let Scar and me crash in his apartment. He lived in this goddamn mansion with his parents, who were never home, and I distantly remember agreeing. Possibly 'cause I now had no lock in my home, I had just tricked a psychopath that now knew where I live, and Scar probably wasn't exactly comfortable sleeping there, either. Also I was really, really tired.

I was, quite possibly, more tired than I realized, 'cause the next thing I knew was the fact that I was curled up in a ball underneath a pile of blankets.

I opened my eyes, then decited that it was a bad move and pressed them close again.

It took me a coulpe of minutes to get adjusted to the light, and then another few to realize where I was.

Because the pile of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals happened to be in a small corner of DJ's room, partly behind his bed. I slowly and reluctantly sat up, rubbing my head, registering the throbbing pain in my left forearm and looking around the room.

I put a hand trough my hair and yawned, trying to remember the night before and failing miserably.

I slowly stood up and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, walking out of the room.

I soon found Scar and DJ from a couch, lazily watching something and eating pizza, and a part of me noted that I must've slept kind of long.

"How long was I out?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

They chuckled a bit.

"Eighteen hours."

"Must be your new record, really."

I collapsed to the couch, too, not bothering to tell them that my personal record of sleeping in one day was actually 22 hours.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" I asked after a couple of minutes.

"So should you, but we kinda figured that getting shot and dealing with an extraterrestial psycopath kind of earns you a day off, don't you think?" DJ muttered, and I smiled a bit. That was not a sentence I thought I'd hear.

In a few minutes he broke the silence and threw me my phone. "Here. Jenny's been calling."

"Did you answer?"

"I did." Scar answered, eyed glued to the screen. "Told her you were sleeping and that you'd go to the cafe tonight."

I nodded a bit, going trough my messages.

"It wasn't true, was it?" DJ asked in a few minutes, and I looked up from my phone.

"The Times Square -thing." He explained, and I smiled a bit.

"Nah. All of the screens go trough different servers, it'd take ages to hack all of them." I muttered.

We hanged around for a few brain-dead hours before DJ drove us to the cafe. I had a locksmith to call.

I yawned as I walked around the corner, lazily waving to DJ.

I stopped on my tracks as I saw Jack sitting on the doorstep like a stray puppy.


	14. Cause humans are still humaning

I breathed out and walked to him, making a mental list of all the things I should tell him. _Hey, what's up. So I kind of figured out what's targeting the depressed kids, met a weeping angel and tricked it into believing they shouldn't fight us, I met Eleven and kind of adopted Scar. Also, she shot me. How was your night?_

I closed my eyes. Maybe not.

He looked up to me and smiled a bit. I smiled back, walking closer.

I didn't know people still did this. He could've called me, or messaged me trough Facebook, Skype, WhatsApp- the list is practically endless. Why did he bother to actually come here? How long has he been here? The amount of empty takeaway coffee cups next to him seems kind of alarming.

"Hey?" I asked, and he looked at me with a tired smile.

"Hey." He aswered, and I sat besides him to the doorstep.

"You didn't come home for the night." He noted.

It wasn't a question.

"You know, actually, I did." I answered, pretending not to notice the fact that he had waited for me for god knows how long.

For a moment I weighed my options. I could tell him everything, or I could alter the truth as much as I wanted.

I decited to go with the first. After all, for the first seven years of my life I thought, for who knows what goddamn reason, that I was actually part Vulcan, and Vulcans don't lie. Much.

I took a breath.

"The thing is, that was _after _I met the eleventh Doctor, got shot and had a weeping angel break in to my apartment." I continued, and his eyes widened.

"..._What?_" He stared at me.

"...Yeah. I'm not exactly sure what he's doing here, but my guess is that he's trying to stop the angels from taking the kids. " I answered, turning to look at him.

"What do you mean you got shot?" He asked. Well, almost screamed.

I blinked. _**That's**__ what he thinks is the weirdest thing in that sentence._

"I mean I was on the course of a bullet as it left from a handgun." I answered, rolling my eyes a bit.

"Who shot you? Are you alright?"

"Well, besides the fact that I kind of threatened an alien psycopath last night and I have a bullet wound going trough me, yeah, I'm fine. It was an accident."

He opened his mouth to say something, but remained silent.

"He's here." He noted after a while.

"...Yeah."

"He exists."

"...Yeah."

He nodded slowly. "...Right. Weeping angels?" He swallowed.

"...Yeah."

I let out a dry laugh, leaning back a bit.

"I may need to lay down." He muttered, rubbing his forehead a bit with a smile.

"Well, I currently have no proper door in my apartment, so you could've really gone there if you wanted." I smiled a bit.

"What happened to your door?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"The psycopath."

"Oh. "

In a few minutes he was leaning to my kichen counter with a cup of tea, and I sat on a table with a large, steaming cup of the same liquid.

"I confirmed the analyzis." He said, breaking the silence."Last night. About the screwdriver." He continued, and I nodded slowly. I wasn't really even surprised.

"Why aren't you happy?" He asked quietly, stirring his tea. "I mean, isn't this..." He gave me a frustrated look. "You met him. You actually, properly met him." He smiled a bit. "Isn't this exactly what you hoped for? To have scientific proof about the fact that there's more than this one bloody rock?" He muttered, and I closed my eyes.

"To know that we're not alone in this universe?" He continued, and I put a hand trough my fringe.

"Yeah." I answered quietly and turned to him with a sad smile. "But don't you see?" I shook my shoulders a bit. "Something's messing with reality, and this still isn't his universe. "

He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it as someone ran up the stairs and rushed in from my partly-open door.

Someone in a tweed jacket, suspenders and a bow tie.

I raised my eyebrows, staring at him as he held up the screwdriver, looking around frantically.

He furrowed his non-existent brows and stared back at me.

"You?" He asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" I answered, and he stood up a bit taller. "Well, you shouldn't." He noted, walking towards us and scanning something with the screwdriver. "In fact, you should definitely move out right now." He continued, turning around and looking at Jack. "Hello. You, too. Get out. Bye." He took the half-empty teacup from Jack, who was too confused to hold on to it. He sniffed the tea, wrinkled his nose and poured it to the sink, and then looked around the room.

I looked at Jack, who looked back at me with a questioning look that probably mirrored that of my own.

"Why are you still here?" Eleven asked, turning back to me. "It's a fantastic day to move out."

"Why?" Jack asked just before I had the time to form the same word.

"Birds are still singing, the earth is still going around the sun, humans are still humaning and water still spins when you pour it down the sink." The Doctor muttered, scanning my curtains with the screwdriver, and I stared at him.

"No, why do you want us to go?" I asked, hopping down from the table I had been sitting on. "If you're here 'cause of the weeping angel I'm sorry, but you're late."

He froze. "What do you know about the angels?" He asked, turning around and walking towards me. His voice was completely different now; colder, more serious. Dangerous.

"They've been targeting depressed kinds for a while. Suicidal teenagers who do the job for them: the ones who are ready to vanish. One of my friends happened to be on their to do list, and last night when I got home there was an angel statue in the middle of my living room." I explained quietly. "And if anyone should be getting out of here as soon as possible, it'd be you, Doctor." I looked in his eyes.

"Because something is messing up reality and I've got a feeling that you won't like the future you're heading towards to" I continued, and Jack glared at me. Because neither of us knew wether or not we should tell Eleven about John Smith, the man we guessed to be his future self.

The Doctor walked around frantically and muttered a quiet 'no' before turning to point at me with the screwdriver.

"It doesn't make sense." He muttered, and the screwdriver made a steady, quiet humming noise.

"Life hardly ever does." Jack answered, and a small smile quivered on my lips.

The smile died as the floor beneath me shook violently and a preassure wave travelled trough the room, making me hold on to the nearest steady object.

My mind registered a quiet 'what now' leaving from my lips, the Doctor losing his balance and falling over, and the teacup I was holding shattering into a million pieces as it met the floor.


	15. Cracked

I, more or less instinctively, looked at Jack, who was holding on to the edges of the table with his knuckles white and an expression of shock plastered to his face. I wiped the curling ends of my hair out of my face and stared out of the window as the Doctor slowly and unsteadily stood up.

Jack jumped up and ran to the window, as a loud, metallic noise travelled trough the yard.

It sounded like... Hell, I don't even know what. A high-pitched, disorted, metallic soundwave travelling trough space. A voice so loud that the actual sound travelled after a pulse of energy, like a heatwave travelles before an explosion. I've never heard anything like it, but I suppose it was quite close to the sound you'd get from ripping reality apart.

Just as soon as it had started, the sound faded away. By the time that happened, the Doctor was back on his feet, staring at his sonic screwdriver. He looked out of the window, seemingly looking at something neither of us saw.

Soon the voice was completely gone, and in a few seconds the silence rang in my ears. Before all of my senses were enchanted by a giant rip trough the sky, that is.

A giant, crack-like line ripped open the sky, making the cotton-ball clouds fall apart, and the three of us stared at it. Me, trying to connect the dots and trying to force the whole thing to make sense. Jack, trying to figure out whether or not we were in danger. And the Doctor, with silent rage, loathing, rebellion and dangerous stubborness, trying to figure out the whole thing; the big picture.

The crack trough the sky opened up to darkness, emptiness, but somehow to me it didn't seem half as alarming as it should've seemed.

People had started gathering around, staring up and taking pictures, running around screaming, pointing at the sky.

But the rip, the crack, whatever it was, didn't seem quite as dangerous as it should've seemed. Sure, maybe it was a giant crack in our reality, and sure, maybe within our atmosphere. But it didn't suck out our air. It didn't affect out gravitational pull. There were no Citauris falling out, there was no captain Nero with a warship and there were no Daleks.

There was nothing.

And maybe that's the scary part; there seemed to be no reason, no cause, and no reaction. Just a giant rip trough reality.

The Vulcan part of me noted that this was, quite possibly, the Thing that had been messing up our reality. Messing up time and making John Smith happen (because really, if we were hunting something weird, big and possibly dangerous, a crack in reality might be just that).

The chain of events started forming as I stared into the darkness.

Because there was something messing up time, space, and quite possibly making multiple different universes collide. Something that makes Eleven regenerate, something that makes it possible for the angels to come here. Something that messes up time enough to allow both Eleven and John Smith to be here, something with enough power to bend universes and braid together timelines.

And for something with that much power, the crack was disturbingly stable. Silent, dark, cold. Stable.

And like the calm before a storm, so was I.

Because to be honest, I wasn't that scared of the actual problem, the darkness cracking open our sky and looming over us like a nightmare version of the Milky Way.

I was more scared of how humans would react. How long till this is trending? How long till someone finds a way to start a war over this?

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Jack's whisper travelled trough the silent flat.

"What the..." He muttered, and for the first time in forever, I had no answer.

I took a breath as my mind listed knowledge, ruling out every option as I tried to explain the giant rip trough reality.

"Must be a crack in time and space." The Doctor answered, looking at his screwdriver, then giving us a smile.

_Yeah, thanks. That helped. _

"Thanks, but the question was more like 'what caused it, why is nothing happening and exactly how screwed are we'" I muttered, pushing my head out of the window and looking up.

"Usually they close themselves." He answered, dodging the actual questions and pointing the screwdriver up at the sky.

Okay, so either he didn't know or he didn't want to tell us. And I'm not sure which one is worse.

I never got the change to decide, because the ground beneath us shook violently. The three of us ran to the door, jumping over the remains of my precious teacup. I stumbled to the stairs as Jack pushed me out of the door, and I pulled him after me.

I ran down the stairs, and as I reached the door a part of me didn't really want to enter the world full of terrified people running around screaming. The house about to fall down crushing us, however, made me push open the door and step to the dry driveway.

The two guys followed me in seconds, and my mind registered the screaming people.

Because they weren't screaming out of fear.

They were screaming out of pain. Desperation, loss, the feeling of the last spark of hope going out.

As I registered that, a small, quiet 'no' left the Doctor's lips, and I distantly felt a hand on my own.

And I realised that the rip in reality wasn't the only crack around, no. The ground was shaking, falling apart, tearing down houses and forming cracks big enough to swallow a whale.

And the people were falling in.

Mercilessly and cruely, pointlessly, the Earth swallowed hundreds of kids, followed by their parents, pets, cars and gardens.

I watched as parents lost their children, how people fell helplessly to the hot, boiling darkness. How lovers lost eachother, how brothers lost their sisters, how friends screamed as someone's fingers slipped a bit further.

And a part of me was really, really grateful that we were still standing there.

And another part of me realised that Scar and DJ had probably both been in the crowd, because neither of them would have wanted to miss their front-row places to the end of the world.

I opened my mouth, not really sure of what I was about to say. Jack, however, talked for me, looking up with determination in his eyes. "Lightnings don't strike the same place twice." He muttered. "They're all having a collective mental breakdown, and I'm not leaving before I make sure none of them jump after their loved ones." He continued. I nodded slightly and looked around, trying to find a relatively safe place for everyone.

"We can't save everyone." I started. "This is going to happen again."

The look in his eyes hurted more than any argument he could've given.

Because he knew I was right. But Jack Mayhem was one of those people who believe that it's always worth it when you save someone. Anyone.

"The Screwdriver-" He said, looking around "- It doesn't, by any chance, tune up speakers, does it?"

This earned a surprised look from the Doctor, followed by a 'what-does-that-have-to-do-with-anything' -look.

"I - Yes, of course it does!" He answered, sounding a bit offended.

And the next thing I know is Jack Mayhem standing on something that used to be a house, holding his phone in one hand and my hand in the other. He looked at the people, who slowly, one by one, looked back at him. Soon he started talking to the heartbroken, mentally scarred and confused crowd with a stable, firm voice. He guided them, calmed them, and tried to assure them that everything was 'fine'. He told them to get as far of the coast as they could, he told them to eat salt and drink lots of water, he told them to remember to sleep and to keep listening to the radio.

Because nothing calms a human being down as much as a bunch of rules to live by, something to follow. And slowly everyone walked over the remains of the houses, they circled the cracks and they tried not to think of everyone trapped in what used to be a town.

I believe that was a speech the Doctor was secretly very proud of, 'cause hell, that was _exactly _the kind of a thing he would've done.

And the giant crack on the sky loomed over us like the smile of a madman.


	16. bohemian rhapsOH SHIT

Slowly the crowd melted away, and we were left looking at the empty, dead city remains. Dark clouds started forming around the crack and the air smelled like oncoming rain. The crowd had disappered just as quickly as it had emerged, only now it had narrowed down to a shadow of what it had been before. Wounded fighters, lucky runners, survivors. Human beings that had lost their families, their homes, their whole lives in a few heartbeats. I looked around and the preassuring silence rang in my ears.

My mind started, quite automatically, listing things.

I would've told Jack that they're still not safe, that no-one is, but I've got a feeling he knows that.

I would've told him that this is just the beginning of the end, but I'm pretty sure he knows that, too.

I would've told him that I don't know what's happening, but that, too, doesn't need saying. Because if I did, I would've told him how to solve the first two problems on my list.

So I remained silent.

The Doctor took a breath and turned around with a dramatic move.

"Right." He breathed out. "Well done, Watson. Now, I believe that my Tardis is somewhere around here -" He looked around, trying to spot the deep blue box.

"Watson?" Jack muttered to himself, and his voice was muffled by the Doctor's enthusiastic laugh.

"HA! Safe and sound!" He yelled, hopping down of the small hill we were standing on. The phonebox was in the middle of an area that used to be a small forest. Now it was more like a green graveyard where only the strongest trees stood still, and even they were covered in ash and dust.

The doctor, however, was heading towards the now mostly dead forest with joy. Probably because the thick, strong trees had kept his precious time machine safe as the surrounding world had crumbled down.

In a second he turned on his heels and looked at us.

"Well, come on! The ground is still settling!" He exclaimed, and I thought about everyone who had hid in corners and under beds, and regardless of their actions still fallen to their death.

I took a breath, raised my eyebrows a bit and then looked at Jack. I gave him a weak smile and hopped down, pulling him after me just as the ground beneath us shook faintly.

The Tardis wasn't far away, but the city remains and the fallen down trees made our way a bit more difficult. The time machine seemed to be unharmed, though, and in the complete silence its humming could've been heard miles away.

As we got closer, I could see the confusion grow on the Doctor's face. I brushed it off as sadness, anger, all that. After all, he had just witnessed innocent people dying, standing by helplessly.

And standing by helplessly wasn't really his style.

But when we were only meters away from the police box covered in dust, I realised there was already someone standing in front of the door.

Someone with a messy, reddish-brown hair and a formal shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

He was facing the door, and The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows a bit.

John Smith turned around with a confused look in his face.

"Hello?" He started, looking at the Doctor.

"Interesting." The Doctor muttered, looking at the Tardis.

The Doctor took a sharp breath and pointed at the man with his sonic screwdriver.

John Smith looked at me as if asking 'what is this man doing why is he whirring at me', and I smiled a bit to his terrified face.

Soon the Doctor lifted the screwdriver to his face and his eyes got more serious as he saw the readings.

And I'm kind of pretty sure he had just proved that John Smith, in fact, has two hearts.

The only problem seemed to be that John Smith himself probably wasn't aware of that.

And none of us knew how badly telling him would mess things up.

"The key probably still works." I muttered, reminding the Doctor that our priority was to get out of here. He shook his head a bit, then whispered a faint 'right, yes, okay' with a nod. I glared at Jack, who was looking at John Smith. Observing, examinating.

In a few seconds the ground shook more violently, and all of us automatically looked at the Tardis. The Doctor pointed at the door with the screwdriver, but nothing happened. He made a frustrated growl and probably changed the settings, trying again.

Nothing.

The earth shivered beneath us, and the surrounding air felt electric.

He tried again, failing, and his jawline tensed. I looked at Jack, who grapped a hold of my hand as the ground shook again, making the trees sway above us.

As the Doctor failed to open the reformed door, John Smith looked...scared. Confused. He looked like he kind of knew what was going on, but then again, he really, really didn't.

I blinked as my mind connected the dots, and I looked at him.

"The key!" I stared at John Smith. "The one that you took your name from?" I yelled over the screaming wind, and in a second he was turning over his pockets. "It opens a goddamn phonebox?!" He asked frustratedly.

"Oi!" The Doctor screamed, sounding offended. "Not a 'goddamn phonebox', thank you!"

"This one?" He asked, looking at the key and hurriedly opening the door as a tree behind us fell down.

The Doctor pushed all of us in to the console room, and every second the confusion on John Smith's face grew. "It's-" He furrowed his eyebrows, and the Doctor smiled, pulling the door closed after him. I leaned to a wall, and another tree fell down outside. The Doctor hopped to the console, spun around and his smile grew wider. "The Tardis." He smiled. "Time and relative dimension in space." I muttered, looking around.

The Doctor looked a bit confused, but not nearly as much as John Smith did.

"...Right." He swallowed. "Why...do I have a key to the...Tardis?" He asked, but then seemed to understand the answer, at least a part of it, on his own.

"A compressed dimension?" He asked, changing the subject and stepping closer to me, scanning the walls with his eyes. I nodded a bit and walked to the console.

"You know how she works?" I asked the Doctor, looking at the levers, buttons and switches. Jack was examinating the core of the console, trying to understand, well, something. After all, he had always wanted to be a marine captain, and a spaceship's a ship nevertheless.

"Of course I do!" He answered, pulling a lever and causing an unnecessary amount of loud noise.

Covering his ears the Doctor soon pushed the lever to it's earlier position.

"More or less."


	17. TARDIS

The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows a bit and I heard Jack mutter something under the console. John Smith was staring at the whole room in total confusion, and I wondered how on earth I got myself into this situation. I mean, I was standing inside a phone box that was actually a time machine, accompanied by two versions of the same alien meanwhile the sky outside was falling apart for no apparent reason. Only one of these extraterrestial beings knew that he, as a matter of fact, is not from this planet, certainly not from this time and quite possibly not from this reality, while the other thought of himself as just a man who had lost his memory.

The whole box shook faintly as nature screamed for help outside.

The third man in the room was currently tracing cords under the console. The third man, the most normal man and the only _human _man seemed to be the only man who had any idea of how to pilot the goddamn phone box, because he soon started cautiously pressing buttons and the console seemed to come back to life. The lights above us flickered and a slight smile spread to his lips.

The Doctor had walked to John Smith, and they were now staring at each other in confusion. Well, partly curiosity, but mostly confusion. I hopped over a fence and a few steps down to Jack, who was staring at the main console in frustration.

"Most of these seem more or less pointless to be honest." He muttered, and I looked at the control board.

"I got the power on, she was on some sort of a hibernation mode or something, probably saving energy." He continued, lazily pointing at the switch that had brought the machine to life.

I nodded a bit. "Some sort of an emergency override?" I asked quietly, partly from myself, and he croocked a brow a bit. "This is the Tardis from before John Smith lost his memory." I shook my shoulders, looking around a bit. "My guess is that that required some sort of an emergency, don't you think?" I ran my fingers on one of the levers. "Altough, could just be the Tardis regenerating."

I took a few steps back, and distinctively heard the Doctor talking to John Smith. Yeah, well, I guess he has some explaining to do.

"Right now our priority is to get out of here. Agreed?" I talked, looking at the door as a thunderstorm raged outside. I didn't really wait for an answer, and I stepped closer to the console again. "So. This version of the Tardis was born in the middle of action, and odds are there is some sort of a program that would allow him to escape even in the verge of death." I explained, "In other words, there probably is a very, very simple way of getting out of here." I turned to look at Jack. "Think about it. If he is in a hurry, or dying, not only should piloting be quick, but also mind-blowingly simple. If he can barely stand, if he can barely walk to the console..." I muttered, running my fingers on a red lever that was closest to me now that my back was facing the door directly.

He nodded with a small movement. "Now that we have power, our main problems are finding the parking brakes, setting the coordinates and hitting the gas pedal." He answered, a smirk spreading to his lips.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I heard John Smith argue in a frustrated tone. "You're the one with the flippin' spaceship! I'm the one with amnesia!"

"Exactly! It's a spaceship, not a magic eightball!" The Doctor answered, sounding equally frustrated, and a part of me noted that this universe made a bad deal when it decited to put two versions of him in the same room.

"You've lived this once already, how can you not remember?" Eleven continued his argument. "The sky is _literally_ falling apart and you don't remember it?"

So, apparently the Doctor had decited to tell everything to John Smith, then. Well, that explains the mutual confusion they seem to reflect.

Jack seemed to completely ignore the two of them. He was muttering something to himself, moving around a bit and every now and then hoovering his finger over a button or a lever.

"What's the worst damage we can make?" I asked as the blood-chilling wind howled outside.

"Well..." Jack gringed a bit. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'm betting on an explosion of some sort."

I let out a breath. "We can't stay here, though. You think that time lord brain of his would be of any use?" I asked, leaning to the controller.

Jack looked up to the arguing pair of aliens and shook his head a bit as the Doctor crossed his arms like a five-year-old.

The thunderstorm reminded us from its existence again, and the power of the lightningstrike nearby made a shockwave travel through the box. The floor shook under us, and I looked at Jack. His mismatching eyes were already glued to me, as if asking if it really was wise to try and fly the tardis.

Wise? Hell no. But right now it was, quite possibly, our only possibility if we'd like to see the sunrise. The arguing pair of temporarily useless time lords, however, didn't seem to notice the world ending outside the wooden phonebox doors.

The floor shook again, for god knows what reason, and all of us instinctively grabbed a hold of what was the closest, even distantly steady thing we could reach. For me and Jack it was the edge of the main console, but unfortunately for the two timelords- for them it was the other alien. This, of course, was an inevitable disaster; they're the same person, different timestream. For them to touch, nevertheless hold on to the other for dear life, was a paradox. It shouldn't have been possible. The now powered on tardis made the problem even worse, and in a fraction of a second a bolt of electricity shook both of them. This sent both of them to the now settled floor, but neither seemed to stand up again.

Shit.

Jack gave me a quick, faint nod, and I placed my hand on top of the big, red lever. Jack, who had, I hope, already located the "parking brakes", took a step to the right and looked back at me.

I let out a breath and pulled down the lever.

A buzz of electricity travelled through the console board, and as Jack held down a button and pulled down another lever, a disorted humming filled the room.

I rushed to the two men, fearing for the worst. However, both of them seemed to breath. Well, hardly, but still. I turned on my heels and hopped back to the console.

"It's... It's like there's not enough power." Jack muttered, and I groaned a bit. Great. Just, great. Both of the time lords unconscious, and now that we supposedly _could _get away from the apocalypse outside, _we don't have the power._

Jack looked up at the console, then at the door, and in a few seconds he was under the console room again. He was muttering something and looking around frantically as I followed.

He ripped open a aluminium fence surrounding a pack of wires and looked up again, tracing back the electric cords. As he pulled out a green wire that seemingly wasn't attached to anything and took a step back, my train of thought caught up with his.

The realization made my stomach drop. My eyes shot back to his, and I muttered a quiet 'no', which he completely dismissed, walking to the console again.

**AN: Yeah, hi. Sorry you had to wait for the chapter, and sorry the whole thing is sort of stupid and irrelevant. But don't worry. You'll probably get a new chapter quite soon, 'cause my life has been kind of crappy lately, and writing makes things a little bit easier. **

**Well, technically writing doesn't change anything, but it's a distraction. And frankly, I think it's a hell lot of better distraction than starting to screw blades off of pencil sharpeners again.**


	18. kamikaze power-up

I rushed after Jack as he ran up to the main console again, pulling the green wire after him.

As I caught up he was ripping apart the console board and frantically staring at the colourful buttons the metal case had hidden.

_"No." _I tried, knowing it was useless. He had already found a plug for the wire.

I stared in shock as he tried to attach a metallic antenna of some sort to the other end of the wire.

I would've said something useless like 'you're not going out there' or 'there's got to be some other way of doing this', but both sentences seemed equally pointless. Not only was this possibly our only way of getting out of here, trying to collect energy from the raging thunderstorm was actually a highly logical way of powering up the Tardis.

Also, there's one more thing you should know about Jack Mayhem.

There's the coffee addiction and the little sister, there's the mismatching eyes and the messy hair. And then there's the fact that when facing a problem he calculated it out with raw facts, he selected the most reasonable solution and he took it, even if it would cost him his life.

So no, he wasn't being suicidal.

He was being logical.

He simply knows that, with the time lords out cold, out of the two remaining potential pilots I was our better shot at flying the whole thing. Faster reflexes. And someone had to go and catch the lightning, and if I was going to stand next to the main console, well...

So no, before you ask, Jack Mayhem wasn't one of those people who are overly eager to sacrifice themselves.

Jack Mayhem was one of the people who stared death in the eye without even blinking if potentially dying was the logical thing to do.

Also, there is no way he'd let me go out there when the lightnings were frying trees all around us and the ground was still shaking like crazy. He's way too heroic for that.

Still. The fact that I didn't personally like the plan didn't make it a bad plan. It just made me hate myself just a tiny bit more.

Partly 'cause I couldn't figure out a way to jumpstart the goddamn phonebox. Partly 'cause I couldn't come up with a plan that didn't involve going out to the apocalyptic thunderstorm, and partly for letting myself grow attached to Jack.

See, for as long as I can remember, I have avoided all kinds of feelings. In my opinion they're always been pure trouble. Pain, that's all they've caused. And well, my 10-year-old kid sister dying in my arms didn't exactly help with the fact that I am and always will be emotionally crippled.

"Shut up and give me a hand." He answered with a cold, dangerous voice, zapping me back to reality.

I took a breath and crouched down next to him, taking the metallic mess from his shaking hands. He let out a quiet, pained sigh, and I looked up. I didn't need to look at my hands to know they attached every single cord to the metal, braiding together the countless copper wires to create a DIY-generator. Well, the mandatory arts and crafts in high school were good for something, I guess.

The apocalyptic wind howled outside, and the thunder raged right above us.

"'That's just the beginning, isn't it?" He muttered, his mismatching eyes locked to me.

I didn't answer. I didn't really have to. He took a shaky breath and nodded a bit.

Because the crack that loomed over the now dead city, it wasn't the end. It was the beginning. The beginning of what, I wasn't exactly sure, but the beginning of something for sure.

"There's probably some sort of an emergency coordination program, don't you think?" He continued quietly, nodding slightly towards the console.

"Hm. We'll probably end up somewhere quite close to the no man land."

He breathed out as my fingers run out of wire and I handed the gadget to him.

"When the lightning strikes, you just need to pull the lever and free the ...gas pedal on the right." He noted, rising up and looking at the door.

"Uh-huh, and how exactly are you planning on avoiding the lightning strike?"

"Dumb luck and rubber gloves?" He tried with a weak fake smile. "Nah. Even down here the metal will attract the lightning, so I only really just have to get the whole thing outside and then get myself back in one piece."

"Which might be just a bit more tricky than it sounds." I answered, crossing my arms as I leaned to the console and he walked towards the door.

The thunder screamed above us a few seconds before he opened the door.

"...Yeah." He swallowed as a burning tree fell down in front of him.

"Don't you dare die!"

"Or what, you'll kill me?" He smirked weakly just before disappearing to the rain.

The dying flames danced in his feet, and I saw him look up as a lightning hit somewhere not so far away.

The pouring rain soaked him in seconds, and he lifted a hood to his head. The electric, stuffy smell of rain and thunder filled the console room, and I turned to look at the levers.

Seven heartbeats later the mind-numbing white light filled the room and the ear-ripping soundwave followed a fraction of a second later. The lights on the console grew brighter, and I automatically pulled down the lever. My fingers found the 'gas pedal', and I prayed that he hadn't gotten himself electrocuted.

The familiar whirring filled the room once again, this time so loud it sounded almost as if the box was mad.

I gasped for air as the whole box shook violently. I automatically grapped a hold of the console and tried to turn around, but the box protested. The floor wasn't stable, and the almost violent whirring made it sound like the whole console was about to fall apart.

A quiet, raspy laugh from the door made my heart skip a beat and I turned around, almost falling over.

He was leaning to the now closed wooden door. He was completely soaked and covered in ash, but he was smiling. Laughing, and most importantly, he was still breathing.

"She is going to hate me for the rest of eternity." He chuckled, looking around and taking an unsteady step closer to the console.

The box kept on shaking, but my body seemed to adapt to it surprisingly quickly. I took a hold of the tv-like ...thing attached to the main console, and my stomach dropped a bit as the numbers went by on the screen.

Because, well. I've never actually _used _time-space coordinates before, but I'm pretty sure that the readings on the left were time, and the readings on the right were space.

And, as it seemed, the Tardis wasn't just taking us to a different place.

It was taking us to a whole different time, too.

My train of thought crashed as one of the time lords groaned over the loud, metallic whirring.


	19. Just a scrawny human

In a few seconds the Doctor's eyes shot open, he gasped for breath and unsteadily stood up. He had the screwdriver up in no time, pointing around in confusion. Both of us stared at the time lord, waiting for him to register the situation.

He tilted his head a bit, rubbed his forehead and furrowed his non-existent eyebrows.

"The paradox." I explained as he looked down at John Smith, who was still laying in the groung, unconscious.

He turned around in a dramatic but poinless move, and rushed to the console, too.

"Righ, yes. The crack. Apparently caused some abnormalities in your atmosphere, but you got us out of the way." He said absent-mindly. He smiled, walking around Jack and looking around.

"You got us out of the way?" the smile froze slowly, and his eyes travelled to the green additional chord on the console.

He blinked and looked at us.

"What did you do?" He asked in a quiet, serious voice and rushed to look at the coordinate screen.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Jack, once again, spoke for me.

"I channeled the electricity of a lightning strike to the console."

The Doctor's eyes traveled to me. "No no no, that's impossible, you-"

"Not impossible, just highly improbable." I cut in.

He furrowed his non-existent eyebrows a bit and took a step towards me.

"Who _are _you?" He asked, changing the subject so quickly that my mind went blanc for a second. He took a step closer, with the screwdriver in his hand again- and pointing at me.

His voice was steady and dangerous, and despite his earlier childlike behaviour I felt slighlty frightened.

'Cause while he might not be a physical threat to me, he still had a reputation of single-handedly turning around legions of monsters and gods and demons and whatnot.

I had let go of the console, and stood up straight as he loomed over me. I stared in his eyes as he stared in mine, trying to force my exictence to make sense. The screwdriver whirred quietly as he tried to measure god knows what from me.

"Doctor?" Jack tried quietly, _warningly,_ but the time lord didn't even blink.

"You shouldn't be able to fly a Tardis, but you did. You shouldn't have known about the weeping angels, but you did." He took a breath. "You didn't even blink when I said I'm not a human. You're completely okay with the fact that John Smith is me from the future, that's not even a little bit strange to you."

I distantly registered that Jack had let go of the console, too, and he had unsteadily walked to my side. The Doctor didn't seem to care about that, but it didn't surprise me. '_You and your sidekick' _echoed in my head.

"You know things you shouldn't know, and you constantly look like you see things that you maybe shouldn't be able to see. Like you understand things that nobody else even bothers to consider, like your soul is just a bit too big for a scrawny human body, like-"

The sound of his voice faded out alongside with the whirring of the screwdriver, and he lifted the device to level his eyes.

I counted heartbeats in the silence. The Doctor squinted his eyes a as he stared at the screwdriver, and I raised a brow a bit and crossed my arms.

Jack shivered a bit as a small pulse of static electricity travelled between us as my shoulder brushed against his.

"But-" The Doctor muttered, and I let out a breath.

"Congratulations, I assume you just scientifically proved that I really am just a scrawny little human girl with just one pathetic heart and all-human DNA." I said in a tired tone.

"No, but...you -" He frowned. "But...That..." He shook the screwdriver a bit.

"Maybe I'm just that fucking brilliant, okay? Plus, he did most of the strategic flying, anyways." I let out a breath. "Look, I'm not some mystery for you to solve. I'm not secretly an alien, I'm not from the future, I'm not scientifcally important. I'm not hopping from one reality to another, I'm not some mystical error in time and space. Just a human. Just a scrawny human girl who studied her ass off to understand the universe as well as possible. Could we now please just focus on the apocalypse we left behind?"

A second passed in silence, and in the corner of my eye the numbers on the screen stopped moving. Soon the box shook one last time, the humming died down and the lights on the console faded to a steady glow.

Apparently we had landed in one piece. And apparently the rattle had been enough to bring John Smith back to the land of the living, too, 'cause he seemed to be conscious again. Jack looked at him, I looked at the door, and The Doctor looked at the coordinate screen.

He furrowed his brows, staring at the coordinates. "Where are we?"

"How am I supposed to know? It's your box." I answered, and John Smith stood up with a confused and slightly frightened look.

"Technically speaking it's his box."

"Technically speaking you two are the same person, and if I'm not wrong you stole the damn thing in the first place."

Jack let out a breath. "Does anyone else feel like this conversation is not making sense right now?"

"Trust me, I do." John Smith groaned, rubbing his forehead. "In fact, I'm still quite convinced this isn't actually, properly real."

"Well, this isn't your reality so you're not entirely wrong on that." I said, turning around and taking a step away from the console. "Anyone else want to know where we are?"


	20. The bloody moon

My mouth hang a bit open as my eyes scanned the surroundings.

"...What the...?" Jack started, in a kind of tired, annoyed voice.

I blinked and furrowed my eyebrows, stepping outside.

The grey, lifeless view went on and on and on, and half of the horizon was covered by a blueish-greenish-roundish planet, that, from this perspetive, looked pretty amazing.

I kicked the dust with my foot, and it hoovered in the air for a moment before settling down again.

"We're on the bloody moon." I muttered, and the Doctor furrowed his brows.

"Which means that they still need us up there." Jack ended my sentence, nodding slightly towards the planet we were circulating.

I turned to look at the Time Lords, who were both standing by the door.

"You know when we are?" I noted, looking up at the swirling white clouds covering the planet here and there.

Jonh Smith looked confused, and The Doctor looked at his screwdriver.

"Yes, well, given the strategic symmetricality in the electricity readings and the increased levels of dark matter-" He started, waving his hands around a bit as he spoke.

"...I have absolutely no idea."

"Hey, um, guys?" John Smith said quietly, and I looked up to locate the source of the sound. He was standing on the other side of the Tardis, his back facing us.

All three of us silently turned to look at the man.

"We've got company."


	21. The Earth sets

Jack groaned quietly, as in ´I'm really not in the mood for being kidnapped and/or slaughtered by some stupid aliens right now´.

I stared at the group of heavily armored figures looming over John Smith.

_Tall, but despite their armors, quite lean. Some sort of masks, helmets, and a large variety of wepons._

_And most of those were currently being pointed at out general direction._

I furrowed my eyebrows a bit.

_But not fired yet._

_Why are they armored, and not only in a way of protection but in a way that looked almost as if it was a way of life-support? If they are locals, why are they wearing helmets, masks, as if the lack of atmosphere doesn't quite match their vital systems? Why are they here, when there's a whole planet with a great biodiversity right next door? _

_Why are they carrying weapons? Why do their figures look distantly human? Why is there only a few of them?_

_Shit._

I blinked and took a shaky breath.

"We...come in peace?" John Smith tried, lifting his hands up surrendingly.

"Seriously?" Jack hissed at him, and the Doctor pointed at the group with the screwdriver.

"Doctor." I muttered, looking at the figures. "Put. That. Away." I quietly said to the Doctor, looking at the five -no, six- figures in front of us.

He slowly lowered the whirring device in his hand, now scanning the figures with his eyes.

I rubbed my forehead a bit.

_It doesn't make sense. _

_It doesn't add up._

Jack glared at me, and in a single heartbeat he understood I was having trouble keeping up with my thoughts.

_Why are they here? _

One of the ...aliens, the one closest to us, slowly poked at Jack's chest with the tip of a weapon I couldn't really categorize.

This made me realize that Jack had moved to stand protectively in front of me.

This also made me realize they hadn't killed us yet.

_Do they need us for something? _

_What are we to them? Enemies, currency, workpower? Food? _

The closest alien, the leader, quite possibly, nodded a bit towards his crew and said something. The voice was muffled up by the helmet, but judging by the volume, the message wasn't exactly happy.

But they still hadn't killed us.

_No oxygen tanks? Do they have a base nearby? Are we just intruding their territory, is that it? Or is the technology advanced enough to withold all the oxygen they need? Do they even need oxygen? What kind of life-support do they have, anyways? _

_Judging by the size of their heads and the tall figures, their systems have developed according to their surroundings. _

_These specific surroundings. Weakened gravity, the lack of vitamins. The absent atmosphere, the non-existent biodiversity that drove them to the edge of extinction. _

_Where do they even get their water? Do they even need water? How far have they traveled to come here? Do they even come from this universe?_

_Do we even come from this universe?_

I slowly lifted my hands up, keeping my focus on where I guessed their eyes to be.

_The group, why only a six-man army? And the weapons, why was the six-man army carrying weapons? If they were on a shortage of manpower, what could they possibly be shooting at? This moon, it's...well, dead. Nothing grows here, nothing plants its roots here. _

_Nothing lives here._

I glared at the Earth slowly setting to the horizon.

_How did they even get here? When are we?_

_The Earth is still turning, there's still a working atmosphere, the sun is still burning, so why are they here? Why move to a dead, deserted rock?_

_And why did they bring weapons with them? If they're humans, they shouldn've known what the moon was like. If they're not, they're from a civilisation far more developed than ours -after all, they've been able to move here. In any case, they should've known that there should be nothing to shoot here._

_It doesn't add up, there's something I'm missing. _

I snapped back to reality as Jack nudged my arm a bit. I blinked a few times and focused my eyes on him, trying to figure out the sudden movements.

_Oh._

Judging by the behaviour of the ….beings, they were currently taking us hostage. I mean, if we're lucky.

They rounded us up and started to walk us away from the Tardis. To me it seemed like they were in a hurry. Like...like they were suddenly running out of time.

_Some sort of hand cuffs? Okay. I can pick those open later._

_Why hand cuffs? Seriously, that's not very...alien, now is it?_

"We can't leave the Tardis atmosphere." Jack muttered, looking around and trying to figure out where the air would run out.

"I know." I whispered, furrowing my brows a bit. "But isn't it weird that they completely adapted to our artificial atmosphere? Just like that?"

He blinked.

"Maybe they have their own." The Doctor joined in to the conversation, holding his hands up and voluntaringly surrending."Seriously, I'd love to see their technological support. I mean, a gravity field, right? And an atmosphere of some sort, and probably something for entertainment..." He turned to one of the armored beings. "What's the WiFi-password?" he asked, trying to sound completely serious.

"What are you, nuts?" John Smith whispered angrily. "We're being _imprisoned_ in the dystopian _moon _and you're wondering about their WiFi-password?!" He exclaimed.

The Doctor looked at him quietly. "Technological achievements." He answered calmly. "Honestly, to be able to bring life to the moon..." He wandered off with a proud smile.

"Also, if they end up killing us here, at least we can share it in the social media." I noted after a few seconds of silence.

This earned a quiet chuckle out of Jack and an angry murmur from one of the alien guys.

"Prisoners shall remain in complete silence" The deep, steady voice stated in a moment.

"I doubt that." Jack whispered to me with a small smirk, and I couldn't help but smile.

The Doctor smiled a bit, too, and John Smith rolled his eyes.

In a few minutes my smile froze, probably more of confusion than of fright. The base, or probably more of a castle, was...well, it had seen better days.

_Who the hell builds a castle to the moon? Honestly?_

I glared at Jack, who returned the confused look and shrugged his shoulders a bit.

We were walked into a...well, sort of a dungeon, but the roof was made of glass.

Probably an old observatory or something like that. It seemed kind of obvious that they weren't used to holding prisoners -or having company of any kind, if that matters. The whole base seemed deserted, abandoned.

Dying.

In a few moments we were left alone, scattered across the gigantic room. A hall, a library? An old navigation center?

Sooner or later all of us fell asleep. To the corners, under tables, anywhere that provided the illusion of protection.

Except for the Doctor, who layed on his back in the middle of the room, staring at the starts above us.

_We're on the dark side of the moon. What the hell powers their heating systems?_

I sat next to the Doctor, who didn't bother reacting to my closeness in any way.

"Figured anything out yet?" I asked casually, also looking up.

_Dipper. Orion's belt. Sirius. Well, at least we're still galactically in the same place, and not in some crazy-ass replica._

He didn't answer, and the back of my mind automatically recognized all the constellations that didn't mean anything any more. No-one cares about the names any more, or the gas structure, or the mass, or the relative time it takes for them to circle around their own spesific gravitational centre. Well, probably some stuck-up teachers do, but that doesn't matter. There's probably no school to go back to, anyways.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a moment as he stared blankly at the sky. He turned to look at me, and I croocked a brow slightly.

"Don't bother lying." I breathed out. "I can see it. Something's wrong. I mean, besides the apocalypse we left behind."

He let out a pained sigh. "It's just...nah." He shook his head a bit.

I didn't answer, I didn't argue. And in a minute he took a sharp breath and turned to look at me.

"It's just that, I'm just...tired, I guess. You know, of the saving and the hiding and the running and the losing. Trying to rescue everyone. Even the ones who don't want to be rescued. But that's my part, that's what I _do._

I'm tired of saving the world all the time but I can't stop, 'cause I've caused enough death already. I'm trapped in a loophole of suffering, trying to save everyone, causing more pain along the way. I've been doing this a thousand years, and I'm tired." He took a breath."And the minute I suddenly can't solve everything, you all act like I've disappointed you. You take me for granted, you assume it'll be alright because the Doctor will know what to do. The Doctor will save the day."

The way he said his title broke my heart. So cruely, so mockingly. His voice was so broken, so hurt, almost as hurt as the look in his eyes. And it wasn't the 'about to cry'-kind of look, no. It was more like 'I don't even really care about it any more because I'm used to being hurt and that's okay, but the constant pain is eating me up from the inside and there's nothing I can do about that, 'cause life is unfair and there's nothing that could change that.'

But of course, he's the Doctor. Of course he tries to hide it.

"I guess it's my own fault. Always running around, saving the world so you can try to destroy it the morning after."

He shook his head a bit and took a breath. "Why am I telling you this? You're just-"

"Just a human." I ended the sentence with a small, sad smile and a tired voice.

He blinked, and looked at me. "I didn't mean-" He tried, but I raised a brow a bit.

"Yeah you did." I smiled weakly. "It's okay. You're tired of humans. Assuming you'll come and save their ass out of every trouble they get in. Human beings are selfish, cruel, stupid and horrible. We're stupid and horrible and we live in a constant illusion of power. We're primitive, we're mad, we're mean and we're stuck on a stupid old rock. You're tired, and I don't blame you." I muttered. "I'd stay as far away from us as I could if I was you. Because in my opinion, all the aliens out there should be scared of the human invasion. If we ever get out of this solar system, we'll either spread like a virus or die immediately. Either way, we'll probably wipe out everything as we go along, because every beating human heart tends to be the epicentre of destruction."

He looked at me. Heartbroken.

Because he wanted to deny it, he wanted to say 'you're wrong.' He wanted to tell me that human beings are amazing and beautiful and incredible, that we'll spread out to the stars to explore, not to interfere, he wanted to assure me that human beings are the future of the universe.

He wanted to.

But he couldn't lie. His hearts just couldn't take that, not right now.


	22. Need you now

**AN: okay, first of all, I am so so sorry it took me forever to get this done. Literally. I think the roman empire migh have risen and fallen again since I last updated. But on we go, weird as always, and as always, with bad jokes and terribly worded sentences. **

I looked up at the stars.

_How does their glass hold the preassure? Literally, how has it not caven in yet? We're on the dark side of the moon, how is this logical in any way? Sure, they're here because of some stupid inner conflict the human race happens to have going, surprise, but how is this physically happening? How did they get all of this stuff here? What powers it all, what heats this up, what holds up the gravity? The atmosphere? The life, what the hell supports the life here? How on earth have they survived? How long have they been here? Are they even human any more? In fact, have they ever been human at all? _

I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, frustrated.

_I need Jack. _

I let out a breath and looked at the Doctor, who remained silent. Still and silent.

_He would know. Jack. He would filter it, he would tell me what trace of thought to follow. _

I closed my eyes, and my heartbeat slowly but surely pounded through my system.

_I don't know what possibilities to cancel out, I don't know what would obey the balance of probability. I don't see it, I don't see the coincidences. I don't see the probabilities. I know what possibly could've happened, but I can't rule out the improbable._

_I see the parts of the puzzle but I can't form the picture until it's already in one piece._

I looked at Jack, who pretended to sleep in a corner.

_He could._

_I'm good with numbers and equations and he's good with reality._

I took a breath, and I hated myself a little bit more for letting myself need another person. It's against my nature to depend on someone, it breaks all of my rules. And yet, I need him. I need him to filter my thoughts and to help me figure out the things I could never think of by myself. I need him to remind me of the essence of humanity, I need him to keep me in touch with reality.

And at the end of the day, I need him to be with me. Because on top of being the most genius person I have ever met, he is my best friend. And when you're being held hostage in a dystopian castle on the dark side of the moon you really, really need your best friend.

I let out a quiet breath and stood up, leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts that, no doubt, would torment him for the rest of the night.

I looked up once again.

_It's not like we could break out. They wouldn't have left us here alone if there was even the slightest possibility that we could cause any trouble._

Slightly annoyed by the oh-so-humanly delusional self defense instinct I happen to have, I scanned the room for any place that would provide the best illusion of protection. After all, I need to sleep, too.

With a small, barely noticable sigh I took a step towards Jack, who had conveniently chosen to fall asleep to the one corner that he knew I would've chosen, too. See, the 'dungeon' wasn't empty, no. It was obviously not built for keeping hostages, there were remains of an old study hall, or a library, or an observatory, or something. Maybe it had just been used as a general storage room for a while, because there was a _lot _of stuff.

There was an old table in the corner, and behind it, a pile of pillows. I didn't even want to know where exacly were they from, but I took a step towards it.

I took a breath.

Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't worried about sleeping curled up next to him. We had slept together a billion times. You know, in a totally non-romantic way. Sure, he had the tendency to wrap his arms around me protectively or snuggle closer in his sleep or hold my waist or something, but there was nothing sexual about that. It was normal, it was natural.

And in a way I guess his presence provided the most genuine illusion of protection I have ever felt.

So no, I wasn't worried about sleeping next to him.

I was more worried about the fact that falling asleep next to someone is the ultimate form of trust, and affection, and if the beings that inhabit this place find out how much I care about him, they might use it against us.

And I would let them.

Because out of the two of us, he's the one this universe needs more.

I curled up to the pile of stuffy pillows, and just before I closed my eyes I registered a small smile appearing to his lips that were only inches away.

And in that moment I thought that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright after all. Because even if the skies might be crumbling down tomorrow, I still had him tonight.


	23. the Others

I woke up to a loud, thumping noise. Loud, approaching thumping noise. Great.

"I would very much like for that to be room service." Jack muttered, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

I looked at the door and put a hand through my hair.

I stood up and leaned to the desk, crossing my arms. Waiting. The Doctor stood a bit closer to the door, pointing his screwdriver towards the approaching noise. Jack stood besides me and John Smith a bit further away, close to a wall.

The door opened with a dramatic squeak, and the figures from yesterday stomped in. Well, four of them did. I raised a brow a bit. Soon one of them lifted up a sharp weapon, pointing towards the Doctor, who looked quite offended. "You know, I would personally prefer this situation if there were no sharp things involved." He noted, moving away a bit and throwing the screwdriver around in his hand. And the three other figures pointed their weapons at Jack, me, and John Smith. The Doctor frowned a bit and sighed disappointedly.

"You know, the mysterious threatening alien overlord -thing is getting kind of old." I noted. "You obviously need us for something, so you might as well get on with it."

One of the figures made a low, muttering noise, and nodded a bit towards the doorway.

I wanted to make a sarcastic comment about how they would let us out of the dungeon without handcuffs, but I remained silent. I would very much like to keep the distance between those weapons and my skin as large as possible.

They lead us to a large hall full of technology. Very similar to those war strategy bases they had in WW2, but a few centuries ahead in the technology. To be honest I almost expected Peggy Carter to pop out of somewhere as a cyborg.

I looked at Jack, who seemed to be observing the area, trying to force it to make sense. This technology couldn't possibly be all theirs...right? Some of the things seemed way too developed. Way too alien. I mean, it didn't make sense. But then again, for the last few days hardly anything in my life made sense any more.

For the first time, one of the figures spoke. Out loud. To us.

"We need you."

"That much we kind of figured." I muttered, mostly to myself.

The speaking figure gestured all around the room.

"This is our war base. Like you can see, we're sort of...short on staff at the moment. We've lost most of our soldiers to the Others, and they've claimed the Earth. And with that, they have the Center."

He responded to our questioning looks with a sad sigh, and slowly took off his helmet.

"What is the Center and why have I never heard of it?" The Doctor asked.

"The Center is a bundle of machines, a system that controls the fabric of reality. It allows people to travel between universes, jump from timeline to another, bend the laws of physics. As you can guess, humans started to argue about who it truly belonged to. First, it was ordinary people. Then the governments. And in a few weeks, the world was at war."

We listened carefully, now that the man finally explained something to us.

"First the nations fought over it. As time passed, the world got divided in two: The ones who believed it was theirs to control, and those who believed it should be destroyed. Of course, that led to all-out chaos. The ones who wanted it soon started fighting each other, and the rest of us were stuck in the middle. We escaped here to save the lives of those we love, but the Earth was theirs. With that, sadly, came the weaponery of all of the nations. And now we're here, trying to battle off the patrols they send after us. Trying to survive. And they're there, in the curimus of chaos, killing each other and stealing from themselves."

After a moment of silence, I nodded a bit. "You know, you could've told us this the moment you kidnapped us. Would've made a lot more sense."

"They had to be sure we weren't a trap." The Doctor muttered, and Jack nodded a bit. "Hence the handcuffs."

John Smith, who was sort of just..._there_ most of the time, suddenly spoke up.

"And you need us to stop the war."

"That would be preferable, yes." The figure-man answered.

"Right. So two versions of the same alien, one of which has amnesia and the other one happens to be dying, a mentally fucked up teenager and a not-yet-graduated astrophysicist from the past with the attention spam of a golden retriever are going to stop a world-wide war. I assume you have some great, big plan that leads to a happy ending?" I talked, maybe sounding a bit more sarcastic than I intended.

"That's what the legends say." He answered, nodding towards one of the armored figures. The figure walked to a nearby computer, took off the helmet and started typing something to a touch screen in a very Tony Stark-like manner.

"The reports simply inform that on that exact date you four will land on the war zone and bring peace with you." The woman with curly, black hair talked while looking through the files. "You will stop the fighting and return sanity. Return humanity." She sounded almost desperate, and I couldn't help but wonder how much she had lost because of all of this.

"The legens say that you will make reality work again. That you will sort out all of the misplaced timelines and sew together the ripped fabric of the universe around us."

"Yeah, so nice and logical. Really clear instructions, thanks."

The dark-haired woman spoke up again, this time with a small smile. "Basically it's a very simple thing to do, shutting down the engine. There's an off switch, and we have the technology to get to it. Out troops, however, are so small that everyone knows us by heart down there. Any one of us would get executed in a matter of seconds. But you...you could go undercover. Land somewhere far away and shut down the Center without them even realizing it."

"Sounds disturbingly simple." Jack answered.

"Sounds like I'm going to die somewhere between the takeoff and the victory." Eleven muttered, and the computer lady frowned a bit.

"That is likely, yes." she said quietly.

"What about the rest of us?" Jack asked, glancing over to me.

"Relax, she'll survive." John Smith answered, kind of surprising the rest of us. Lately he's been fading into the backgrounds, and I sometimes forget that he's the Doctor, too.

_Do you really think Eleven would've lead us to our deaths like this_, I continued to myself, trying to not concentrate on the fact that he seemed to ask about my survival instead of his own.

**AN: okay. I want to apologize. It took me way too long to update and I'm sorry about that, I tend to forget that there are real actual people out there who read my stuff. Sorry.**

**edit: oh my god the typos. I was writing this in the middle of the night, and oh my _god. _I can't believe I actually forgot to write entire sentences? I am so sorry for anyone who read the first version oh my _god_**


	24. the night before

We didn't have much time for training. Apparently it's very important that you do what the future history books say you did, _when _they say you did it.

We had very basic fighting lessons, which the Doctor did not respond well to. Some basic information about their weapons and techniques, srategies. The leaders, the places, the war zones. Basically, just general information about what we were up against.

Some basic lessons about handling their weapons. This earned disappointed looks from the Doctor, and suspicious ones from John Smith.

"You said this should be easy." John Smith noted to the computer lady from before as she handed him a handgun.

"For a war zone."

After a day of learning, training, and some really sad canned moon-food later, we were lead to a small room full of equipment. Not weapons, no, they were held on sight at all times - clothes. Bulletvests. Communicators. Armors. Shields.

"You have to blend in. Not as one of us, but as one of them." The woman explained. "You'll leave in the morning." She looked around a bit. "You can't wear our armors, that would be way too obvious. Pick out something that a harmless human being would." John Smith nodded absent-mindly, looking around a bit, and the computer lady forced a small, sad smile.

"I'll show you to your rooms. You all need a good night sleep, so no dungeons tonight." We followed her down the hallway, and The Doctor looked at her like she was a mystery to be solved.

The room she showed us was surprisingly cozy. You know, for being in a war base on the dark side of the moon. There weren't actual beds, but piles of soft things in the corners. And that was more than fine by me.

I soon wandered back to the room with the armors, just to examinate the clothes and the shields. I stared at the walls covered with very post-apocalyptic clothing, small pieces of armor and agent-like technology. You know, like hi-tech contacts with visual links, electronic armor pieces, built-in communicator earpieces, that kind of stuff.

"How are you holding up?" I heard a quiet voice from the doorway. I'm not sure how long he had been standing there, but The Doctor was now leaning to the doorframe with crossed arms and a concerned look.

"What do you mean?"

"Your whole life has turned upside down. You haven't gotten much sleep, you don't know what happened to your friends, you got shot less than a week ago, you have weeping angels haunting you, and you're about to enter World War who-knows-what. And yet you haven't shed a tear."

I blinked. "You're the one who's dying." I noted. "Plus crying isn't really my style. It also isn't the only way human beings indicate pain." I continued, looking up at a wall full of bulletproof jackets. "I cannot change my past, I cannot affect on what has happened to my friends. And apparently I can't affect on my future much, either, so there's not really much for me to do right now. The only thing I _can _do seems to be making sure that we'll survive tommorrow."

After a moment of silence, I took a breath. "Jenny would've been with Michael. That, or she would've tried running straight to me. Scar and DJ, they would've stayed in the eye of the storm, watching the world crumble down around them and staring death in the eye, laughing." I continued quietly. "There is nothing I can do for them now, they're on their own and me worrying about that isn't going to ensure the continuity of their existence. And about the angels, they'll all be in their own reality this time tomorrow, hopefully."

_The same goes with you, _I continued in my head, trying not to get sad over that.

"And about the bullet wound, it wasn't that bad to begin with. And the war? Apparently I've already ended it, if their history records are correct. Plus, can you really tell me there is something better to die for than the whole of humanity?", I talked, trying to look like I believed in my own words.

The only problem is that I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. I truly, honestly believed that humans were not that great to begin with. I believed that this universe would be much better off without us, and I did not really feel like giving my life for the sake of humanity just so they could solve some stupid inner conflict just to start another at every given chance.

Sure, some humans were incredible. But most of thems were just inevitably cruel and terrible.

And to be honest, the only thing I would die for in a heartbeat was lying under a blanket in the darkest corner of the room down the hallway.

I was sure that the Doctor knew this, but he didn't say it out loud. He just nodded a bit and turned around.

"You should get some sleep." He noted. "After all, you're gonna save the universe tomorrow."

**AN: no cliffhanger. Just a boring filler chapter. No big drama, no tragedy, no cliffhanger.**

**Yet.**


	25. stun guns and protein bars

I put a hand through my hair, trying to decide which weapons would be most useful. I had no actual idea about war zones, despite the earlier theory lessons. I was wearing a bullet vest, so apparently bullets were still a thing, and I was carrying some kind of weird jungle knives. Seems to me that human beings haven't gotten much more civilized. Well, aside from the technology. We all got some kind of weird contacts with visual links to their HQ, a vision improvement-thing, and acces to any data we could possibly need. The devices were also connected to each other, so we would know where the others were at all times. We also got communicators, and some other very agent-like equipment.

Also, of course, guns. Not that we were actually planning on using those so much, but they kind of provided a certain feeling of protection. But, of course, I didn't really trust my feelings much anymore. I mean, everything just kind of felt unreal. In a weird haze of disbelief I walked through the base, handing out different kinds of guns to our little group. Except for the Docor, of course, who refused to touch any weapons besides stun guns. And of course, John Smith, them being the same violence-avoiding person and all. So really I was just helping Jack pick out the most scary guns.

To be honest, if it weren't for the war we were about to enter, I would've been very exited about the clothes. I mean, bulletproof jackets with enormous hoods, army pants with built-in sword-holders, combat boots with knife pockets? Come on. You've got to admit that's cool.

It was kind of really weird seeing the Doctor in anything but the stupid tweed jacket. After a lot of frowning, however, he had agreed on wearing a dark bulletproof jacket just like the rest of us.

After a quick, weird moonfood breakfast (some really weird protein bars, don't ask) we packed our bags and walked to the Tardis in silence. We had it all planned out, everything was settled and mapped out and we had agreed on who was doing what. Not that I really expected that things would go as planned. John Smith and The Doctor were supposed to go in from the front doors with the help of a little psychic paper, meanwhile me and Jack were supposed to sneak in from the cargo doors that no-one was supposedly watching. Before all this, of course, we were had to actually get to the base. That's where the actual problem was; to get through the war zone alive. Of course, we were undercover, and yes, we had sonic technology, but you never know. The base was way too well protected for us to land directly where we wanted, so who knows how good their military protection is.

Leaning to the Tardis console and staring absent-mindly ahead, I felt a hand on my own. I didn't really have to turn around to know it was Jack, but I faced him anyway. He had a slight smirk on, which didn't really fit to the situation, and I soon decited he probably thought not taking this seriously was better than panicking about possibly dying.

"So." He started, probably not really knowing what to say.

"So." I answered, not knowing what to say, either.

I mean, I suppose that in a situation like this you're supposed to say how much you care and so on, but I think that doesn't really need saying. Plus, I'm not even sure I know that myself, so trying to explain it probably wouldn't be a very good idea. I mean, yes, I care about him, of course I do. And I suppose I love him, in some weird, twisted way. He's my best friend, and he's incredible. He's the best human being I've ever met, and I care about him so much it doesn't even make sense anymore. And yes, I guess I've got to admit he's incredibly good-looking, so there's that. But then again, I don't really know anything about love.

For as long as I can remember I've avoided all kinds of feelings, especially ones that would get me hurt. But I guess I screwed that up the minute I met him; I let myself care about him, and that's against all my rules. I knew it, I knew I'd probably only get hurt, but hell, I didn't even care. He was worth it.

But I suspect he knows all of this, with being a genius and all. He saw how fucked up I used to be, and I think he realizes how mentally scarred I still am. He knows I'm avoiding feelings in order to try and protect myself, he knows I don't want to admit I care about anything. And despite all of that, he still looks at me like you'd look at a colour the human eye isn't really supposed to see, like he couldn't quite believe I was real.

I took a breath.

The Tardis rumbled a bit, and we remained silent. If the history books were right, we'd have plenty of time to go over my emotionally troubled brain functions later. So, I just smiled a bit, squeezed his hand and walked to the door as the Doctor parked the box.

"Right." I muttered. "Time to save the world, then."

I took a breath and opened the door, expecting to step into a guiet alley or some other abandoned place.

Instead, I was met with someone pointing a gun at my head.


	26. Crossroads

**AN: okay listen up**

**I've got a few ideas. And I want you to tell me which ones you want me to write about. So, what do you want to see happening here? Love, hate, angst? Just a bunch of alternative universes happening? Death? Action? Zombies? Deep pondering about the meaning of life? Friendship, romance, something totally weird in between? One-Shots? Eleven or John Smith? **

**I was sort of planning on doing a sequel where a thing happens (yes, I had something planned _before _I actually started writing, it was weird and I should probably try it more often) **

**Anyways, a thing happens, and they end up going through multiple universes. Mostly just 'cause it would be fun to write. Then I changed my plans, and then I thought I could do two alternative endings, and then I figured two wouldn't be enough, and then I stopped planning altogether. And here I am. I figured you could give me some opinions and ideas and stuff. 'Cause honestly, I have no idea of what I'm doing. **

**But, on with the actual stuff. I can't really write much before I figure out what I'm actually gonna be writing about, but I wanted to give you something, so here you go.**

I stared at the face behing the gun.

Tired. Young. Androgynous.

Smudged with paint, or dirt, or something.

Afraid.

I lifted my hands slowly, surrendingly, keeping my eyes on those of the person before me. Brown ones, with dark circles around them. I took a slow step closer, so that I was completely out of the doorway, and slowly pushed the door close behind me.

Maybe I could still save them. If they're smart enough to pretend they don't exist.

The person was alone. Why? A million ideas, questions buzzed through my head, but I didn't let myself really concentrate on any of them. If a person is patroling alone at a time like this, it's likely they're practically freaked out of their mind when a phone box materializes in front of them and a crazy-looking girl steps out like it's completely normal. Add a gun, and you'll want to concentrate all of your energy on calming down the freaked out one.

The gun being pointed at your head will not exactly help the situation.

I hoped that the rest of them would be wise enough to stay inside the TARDIS. Which was, I guess, a doomed idea to begin with. As if he would let me get shot without trying to dramatically run in the way. And avenge my death afterwards with some ridiculous, heroic act.

But then again, I guess I'd do the exactly same thing. I mentally groaned.

I hate feelings.

The person in front of me grabbed the sleeve of my jacket, still pointing the gun at me as if out of habit.

"You're late."


	27. The Doctor(s) and The Martini Man

**AN: okay so first of all sorry**

**this is shattered and stupid and illogical but seriously i had so many ideas and i don't even know **

**but anyways here it is**

**oh, and there is a tiny little spoiler for the maze runner movie please don't hate me**

I was led to a campfire surrounded by a bunch of people. A bunch of surprisingly friendly-looking people.

I looked around, waiting for someone to tell me something. Like, you know, some whos's and where's and what about now's.

The silence was soon broken by a strong male voice. "You've got to be kidding me."

I would've rolled my eyes, but the gun was still being pointed at my head. Plus the guy was like twice my size.

The person who'd brought me here sighed a bit and put the gun down. "You've seen the files."

"Hey, just saying. Are you sure she's up for this? I mean, we're the ones who've been fighting the war here. She's just some kid." The boulder of a guy noted.

Someone threw more wood into the fire and sighed. "Can we just focus on the important stuff for a moment here?" a girl with a long, blonde braid asked tiredly. "She's here. That's what matters. What are we waiting for?"

"Well, I'm still kind of waiting for someone to fill me in on what's happening here." I noted.

The blonde let out a breath and poked at the fire. A boy next to her shrugged. "The governments gathered most of the information about the future before we got our hands on it. I mean, boring stuff like lottery numbers and scientific discoveries and things like that at first, but then the rebellion started to come up and-." He explained quietly.

"...so you don't know much either." I muttered. "great."

After taking down the small camp they had put together, one of them sarted to explain the actual plan to me. I didn't really understand anything, but in a few minutes the blonde was handing out weapons and orders and diy-cases of war paint. And before I knew it, we were walking further into the forest.

Apparently there were only a few people guarding the machines, and I guess that's better than going through a warzone. Apparently they had thought no-one would be stupid enough to try and invade the place, but of course, they hadn't met me. Yet.

The actual war, apparently, was more like the silent kind. You know, when the government turns against its people and the law forces are no longer a structure of equal judgement. The rebels couldn't rely on the police, the people couldn't rely on the laws to protect them anymore. Straight out of some dystopian teenage action novel with a useless romantic subplot.

And for a silent war that, according to mass medias, wasn't really even happening, there was a humonguous amount of death around us. Sisters, brothers, mothers, lovers. Friends, neighbours, aunts, fathers. They all seemed to have stories to tell when we walked through the darkness. Of course, there were also the ones who just kept quiet and stared at the ground, but no-one seemed to mind. That tells a story, too, I guess.

For a moment it almost felt like we weren't walking towards the epicentre of a war. They joked, they laughed, some even sang, and with every step I wanted to ask them to turn around. Even though I was probably going to die in an explosion or something, it didn't mean they had to, too. But, of course, none of them stopped. Or even blinked. The heroic little shits.

We arrived to the back door that did _not _look like it withheld the machine that was currently controlling reality. It was as surreal as the 'EXIT' door at the end of The Maze Runner.

I let out a breath as the phonebox was nowhere to be seen. Even if the gang that brought me here was too stubborn to turn around, maybe-

The blonde girl, her face now painted with warrior streaks, snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Focus. The door's almost open." She whispered.

I let out a breath and ran the paint-covered fingers across my face. Sure, I could've gone undercover, but apparently every one of them knew what my face looked like anyways, so what the hell. If I'm going to die saving the world I might as well look like a rebel doing it.

I secured the gun on my thigh, next to the army knife, and put a hand through my hair, tying it up to a bun. The girl picking the lock stepped back as I walked into the darkness that soon started to adjust into a greenish hue, thanks to my night vision contacts. Well, night vision, and a dozen of other cool abilities. Thank you future.

I let out a breath as the contacts mapped out the area around me. No life signs, yet. Then again, no off swich, either. And I didn't even know what it looked like. Great.

The door behind me slammed shut and my heart skipped a beat.

Someone screamed. Something exploded.

And I ran.

They closed the door for a reason.

My heartbeat echoed in my ears, almost in sync with my footsteps. The structure plan that the contacts filed out in front of me detected an engine room, and that's where I was headed. For now.

With every step that echoed in the halls another agonizing thought hit me.

I don't know what happened to them after I shut the phonebox doors. I don't know where they are, and I don't know where I am. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know anything. Well, anything relevant, at least.

Why has no-one attacked me yet?

Where is everyone?

What's going to happen if I find the off swich? What's going to happen if I don't?

I stared at the engine room door, and the beating silence was slowly being filled with the steady, mechanical humming. I let out a breath and grabbed the cold, metallic handle.

The heat detectors in the contacts showed at leat two living creatures in my radar. Brilliant.

I took a breath and stepped into the large room filled with computers.

Four -no, five- living creatures in my radar. None of which seem to have noticed me yet. The room was a maze of archive lockers and six feet tall harddrives, computer screens twice my size. Chords thicker than my thighs, machines I don't even know how to describe.

The suddenly increased light messed a bit with the contacts, but they soon adjusted. I walked in as quietly as I could, which probably wasn't very quiet, concidering the combat boots and the ridiculous amount of weaponery I was carrying.

"We've been waiting for you." A calm, sarcastic voice noted. "You can step out of the shadows now."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and took a step towards them. A man was standing in the middle of the room, smiling. Weird, considering my gun was aimed between his eyes.

Two more people standing in front of me, dressed in matching uniforms. So, that's three out of five life signals.

The fourth one was standing in front of a computer screen, the back of a tweed jacket facing me. So, he'd ditched the bullet vest? Why?

One of the uniform clones was casually holding a gun on the back of his head, and I looked back at the smiling man standing in the middle of it all holding a martini glass.

"It's an honor to meet you." He started wit a casual voice, as if this was a normal situation. "You're a bit of a legend around here."

"So I've heard." I answered, a bit more sarcastically than I had planned. He took a step closer, and I instinctively kept the distance between us as large as possible, walking closer to Eleven and the scared-looking uniform clone behind him.

"Too bad you're about to die. Getting to know you would've been... interesting." The man noted, still smiling.

I rolled my eyes. "If you haven't noticed yet I'm the one holding the gun here."

He sighed dramatically. "That doesn't mean you're going to use it." He smirked a bit. "You're just a little girl-"

I fired the gun to the back of the uniform clone's neck, and the gunshot made the martini man shut up. Eleven jumped at the sound and crouched down to the body with a surprised yelp, waving around the screwdriver with a shocked look on his face.

"Little? Please. I could crush your skull with my thighs." I noted tiredly, looking at the screen Eleven had been working on. The other uniform-wearing person was probably hiding behind a computer by now, 'cause the amount of carbon-based human-sized lifeforms on my radar had lowered down to three. The fifth one had disappeared a while ago, and the assistant I had shot wasn't dead, either. Temporary partial paralysis, lasts a couple of hours or so depending on where you aim. Doesn't kill, just scares the living shit out of you. Thank you future.

The man was still, or again, smiling.

"They warned us about you, you know." He said, smiling, and I raised a brow a bit.

"If you're going to make a boring super villain speech or something I'd rather skip it." I answered, and he let out a breath.

"Then I guess I'm just going to have to kill you now." He noted casually, and I blinked. Great.

The Doctor stood up, and I aimed the other gun to his confused eyes. "Sure, but before you do that, you might want to think about this." I said, looking at the smiling man. "First I'll shoot him, and whatever he was doing to the computer won't get finished. The protection, right? Or backup files? Anyway, then I'll shoot you. Then we're all dead. No positive outcome there." I took a breath. "Of course, the real question is what happens outside these walls. The rebellion grows. If I won't end this, eventually someone else will. Anyone could march in here and point a gun at your head, I just apparently happen to be the first one."

He looked at me, evaluating. "You wouldn't shoot him."

I stared at him tiredly, raised a brow a bit, and shot a bullet through the half-finished martini he was holding. "The next one's going between your eyes if you don't stop with the drama queen bullshit." I noted, and for the first time in ages he stopped smiling that creepy smile of his.

He didn't answer, and I took a breath. "Here's what's going to happen next. We'll figure out how to shut the whole thing down and reverse everything that's messing with reality. Doctor?"

"Right." He clapped his hands together. "Mr. Martini-Man here made me build up the defense systems of this thing, which, on my opinion, was a bad move to begin with, but his assistant wouldn't listen _or _put the goddamn gun away-" I raised a brow a bit.

"Everything has a breaking point." I noted. "A weak spot. Can you track the one on this?"

"You do know what's going to happen if you shut this thing down, right?" The man asked quietly, and I didn't bother to look at him.

"Everything will go back to the way it was. No knowing the future, no hopping from one reality to another. No aliens dropping from the sky and taking you on adventures." The man talked, raising a brow and looking at me knowingly.

"Remember what I said about the drama queen bullshit?" I retorted, and he lifted his hands apologetically.

"Just saying." He continued, again smiling like he knew something we didn't. God I hate that man.

I let out a breath. "Okay. First question, where is the main controller?"

The man blinked. "Are you blind?" He asked sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes, loading the gun. "This is just the firewall and the back-up files. The main thing wouldn't be so easily accessed. Start talking."

I nodded towards Eleven, who was typing in some sort of a code. "Taken it down yet?" I asked, still looking at the suited man with the shards of a martini glass in his hand.

"Almost. You know, when you remodel the security systems of a computer it's amazing how easily you can pass them. At least if you build in a shortcut to...pass all of the security systems." The Doctor explained, waving one arm around and typing with the other.

I nodded a bit. "Now Mr. Drama queen here can show us to the actual machine and/or the off swich. We need to get this done before the FBI shows up or something."

Behind the computer maze there was a small, well, computer, that was seemingly attached to literally everything in the room. Surprisingly simple-looking, with a touchscreen and an old-fashioned keyboard. And, you know, some weird-ass alien technology on top. The not-so-smiley-anymore -man led us there after having his right hand temporarily paralyzed. He was now standing on the background silently, tied to a pipe as The Doctor walked around staring at the screwdriver with a concentrated look.

"If you shut this down, it'll collapse in on itself." He muttered, lazily pointing the screen with the screwdriver. "It'll remove the alien tech attached, it'll close all the portals and it'll cancel all of the futures that will seize to exist."

He looked at me. "But we'll be in the eye of the storm. Who knows what will happen. This isn't your world, either, and it surely isn't mine."

He looked at me the same way I had looked at the campers who had brought me here. I sighed quietly.

"We came here to shut this thing down." I started. "Can you hack the system?"

He turned to look at the screen. "Yeah, but it could take a while. "

"I don't think we have a while." I muttered, examinating the code that was running on the screen. The community college-level programming lessons weren't much of a use now that the code was mostly alien or from the future. I frowned.

A door on our far right slammed open, and a woman with an angry face, a shaved head, and a gun the size of my thigh stormed in. My heart skipped a beat.

She was dragging a beat-up, bleeding boy behind him.

"Like you said." She growled out, pushing the boy closer to us. "Everyone has a breaking point."

The gun was aimed between his eyes.

The mismatched ones.


	28. Hell & Hogwarts

I felt like the blood had suddenly evaporated from my veins. I couldn't move a muscle, I couldn't even blink, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a while.

I tried my best to come up with even a single scenario of how this could end up happily, but my mind was blank. My thoughts were running away from me and I wasn't keeping up very well. Trust me, it was a very distracting feeling.

He wiped the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth to his shoulder, and the bald woman pressed her gun harder against his back.

"So." She started talking, and the Martini Man looked at the scene, seemingly annoyed.

"You and your two-hearted friend here come with me, and I'll let your little troublemaker here go without a scratch." She glared at Jack. "Or, well, at least without a bullet wound."

I would've asked what exactly did 'coming with her' mean, but she didn't look like the type who cared to converse about these kind of things. I stepped slowly away from the screen, and Eleven soon followed.

Jack looked up from the floor, trying to fix his eyes on something and failing miserably.

_He's still breathing, still capable of moving on his own. At least relatively. No spinal damage, but probably a concussion, at least. Either he's bleeding from his mouth or it's internal, and I don't think either one is very good, and some of the other wounds look pretty deep, too, and god, I hope he hasn't fractured his skull-_

_The first thing I remember learning about first aid is that the ones who are no longer complaining are the ones in the most immediate danger. And for someone whose body was covered in blood he was so quiet it was starting to be alarming._

I took a breath.

"He walks free. If you're playing tricks on us I swear to hell and Hogwats that I will find you and I will make you watch as I destroy everything you love." I growled out, and the woman smiled a bit. _Smiled. _

Jack muttered something, or tried to, but ended up coughing blood as the woman hit him with the back of her weapon. "Same back at you." She said quietly.

Eleven lifted his hands up, surrendering. I did the same and put down the gun I had been holding, still remaining ready to shoot her in between the eyes in case she decided to act difficult.

In a few minutes the woman was pushing us forward in a maze of corridors, having left Jack bleeding on the floor of the engine room accompanied by the handcuffed-to-a-pipe and pissed-off Martini Man. ("I was supposed to kill her! You can't just go and kidnap my target! I already bought a yacht with the ransom! Wait!")

She hadn't really informed us where we were going, and I've got a feeling I didn't even want to know.

I was busy debating with myself over how bad of an idea this was when the steady electrical humming suddenly stopped and the lights went out. The whole building seemed to freeze, and the woman stopped, making a surprised noise. In a second my contacts activated, and I took the chance to fire a stun gun to the back of her neck and run. Both Eleven and the woman screamed as the gunshot echoed through the halls, the other out of shock and the other out of pain.

"Come on!" I screamed at The Doctor as he stared at the now paralyzed woman.

"You can't just randomly shoot people!" He exclaimed, running behind me.

"I can, I have, and I'll do it again. Come on!" I yelled, pushing open the engine room doors.

The Martini Man was seemingly unconscious, and Jack had dragged himself half up. Bruised and bleeding, but most of his limbs seemed to function and he was still breathing. Heavily, but still.

In the middle of the mess stood John Smith, staring right back at us.

"Did no-one seriously think of just unplugging the damn thing?"


	29. Ass Back Home

I don't know what happened next.

I mean, yes, according to every law of logic, everything should've gone back to normal. Or at least that's what everybody had kept saying.

The machines, the people, everything that didn't belong here should've...I don't know, evaporated or something, but no. The technology didn't randomly disappear, the world didn't collapse in on itself or anything. The two-hearted alien was still standing next to me.

But then again. We were at the eye of the storm. Who knows, maybe the world outside was falling apart.

Just like back home.

The whole building was still dark, and silent. Which was slightly alarming; wasn't this supposed to be a heavily guarded war compound or something? I mean, I bet mr. Martini Man wasn't the only one who had planned on killing me. Or at least, planned on the machine not getting shut down. So, where were all the angry politicians wanting their revenge?

Jack coughed up blood, trying to stand up straight.

"How much do you feel like you have a concussion?" I asked, trying to figure out which wounds we needed to take care of first. The one in his right thigh looked quite bad, and blood was dripping through his shirt, and-

"Ice cream and fries."

I blinked, furrowing my eyebrows. "What?"

"Ice cream and fries." He repeated, leaned to a table and smiled. Sort of. "You were trying to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, but I fell over and had a concussion. You stayed up till they let me out of the hospital, and when they did we ate ice cream and french fries on the gas station parking lot." He took a breath. "And I definitely feel worse now than I did back then."

I blinked, then tried not to panic as I examinated his blood-soaked figure. His heart was pounding, his breathing was shallow, and his eyes still didn't really fixate to anything. The wound running down his side wasn't deep, but still. I have got to stop the bleeding.

I cut a sleeve off of my shirt to tie around his thigh -you know, to hold pressure between his heart and the wound- not the best possible thing to do, but it's the best we've got right now.

"We need to find you a doctor." I muttered, trying to help him concentrate on something other than the blood loss he was heading towards. "You know, a...doctor doctor." I continued, glancing at the aliens arguing nearby. They were trying to figure out the best thing to do here; every escape plan lead to questions like How and Where and Then what, and staying here was clearly a bad option, too. Plus the Martini Man was still standing in the corner, chained to the pipe and smiling, completely silent, so that wasn't terrifying at all, and I was still sort of waiting for some kind of law inforcements to burst in and shoot laser beams at me or something.

So, this was going great.

The Doctor soon walked up to us, looking mainly at Jack.

"Can you walk?"

"Not a straight line, but I think I can manage some sort of geographical progress from one place to another." He muttered, trying to distance himself from the table as evidence.

The Doctor nodded, looking concerned. Well, okay, maybe that was completely justified given the state Jack was currently in.

"Please tell me you didn't park the Tardis very far away." I looked at the Doctor, raising a brow.

"Well..."

I let out a breath and a sarcastic 'great.'

In a minute we were venturing down the dark hallways in silence. Well, silence, and Jack's frustrated, mumbled cursing in every turn and doorstep. His right arm was around my shoulders, steadying him, which worked pretty well considering the fact that he's at least a feet taller than me. Still, it couldn't be very comfortable for him and did slow us down a lot. I bet the Doctors were dying to start running by now.

To be honest a part of me wanted to run, too, 'cause I was still having hard time believing how easy this had turned out being. I was still waiting for an ambush or a trap or at least some angry rebel wanting to claim the glory and fame.

But we were alone. Well, apart from the angry screams of the Martini Man that had echoed after us. And yeah, I bet there must be more uniform clones hiding somewhere, but they hadn't showed any life sings yet, so. We were alone. Sort of.

Seeing the Tardis around the corner was...unreal. It felt unreal. This whole day had felt unreal. Like...we weren't going to die after all? No bloody battles? No ethical debates, no Doctors convincing the bad guys to do the right thing? Nothing?

Were we seriously just going to fly home and live happily ever after? What the hell was Eleven still doing alive, I mean he's got to catch up to John Smith at some point, right?

I shook my head a bit, trying not to think about it too much. Stepping inside the box Jack sat down to the first logical place he found, and closed his eyes.

"I'd like to inform you that in case you're planning on falling asleep I will not hesitate to punch you." I noted, sitting down next to him. His lips curled a bit upwards, but just barely.

"No doubt."

Both of the aliens, who were getting along surpridingly well, were running around by the console.

"He's got to have some kind of a first aid kit here." I muttered, looking around.

"Yeah, sure, designed just for humans."

"Would you be surprised? He does kind of have a history of bringing human beings along."

He let out a breath, and I stood up. Halfway up the stairs Eleven's voice stopped me.

"I've got nanobots for that." He pointed out. "They're probably already building scar tissue by now. But, you know, in case you're feeling doctor-sy, there's a prehistorical first aid kit by the door."

He turned around, now looking at me. "I assume you were going to ask about that."

I blinked. "Yeah, I...yeah."

He smiled, and got back to his gadgets by the console. The familiar mechanical whirring had already filled the room, the round things had lit up and the railings were shaking a bit. So everything was in order, then? Right? We were really going home?

Was there even a home to go back to?


End file.
